Culture Shock
by KalliopeStarmist
Summary: The people of Suna are harsh as the desert. The people of Konoha are treacherous as forest shadows. The passionate cannot thrive there... .:ItaTem:.
1. One Day After the Chunin Exams

One Day After the Chunin Exams

Yet Another Baby Nin Story.

* * *

"Day one over," the Kazekage sighed, pulling his bag off of the single pack mule that made the journey down to Konoha with his entourage twice a year. He really hated the Chunin exams. Really, really hated them. The three day journey, the sitting around watching low-level ninjas fight, the three-day journey, the lengthy deliberations, the three-day journey...

"Hi, Daddy!" a bundle he had previously mistaken for his sleeping bag greeted him when he untied it.

The Kazekage jumped backwards. "Temari! What the hell are you doing here?"

"You shouldn't say 'hell', Daddy," the little girl said gravely.

"Never mind that, answer the question!"

"I wanted to go see Konoha with you," she explained innocently. "You never take us along."

"Where are your brothers?"

Temari sighed. "I had to leave them alone with Uncle Yasha... but they'll be ok for a week, right?"

"Of course, Princess."

Temari smiled then, because her father wasn't angry after all.

* * *

"I must be getting old," the Hokage laughed when his desert counterpart arrived. "The Sand nins are starting to look so young these days."

Temari giggled, happy to be 'mistaken' for a real ninja.

"Hokage-sama, this is my oldest, Temari," her father introduced her. "I apologize for bringing her without notice, but she snuck into my luggage,"

The Hokage laughed again. Temari liked him; she had never met anyone so happy. "A little stow-away, huh?" he asked her with a wink. "No need to apologize, Kaz, we're happy to have her. I didn't know you had kids."

"Yes, I have kids," the Kazekage growled. Temari got the impression that he told the Hokage this on a regular basis. "I have three kids."

"No kiddin'? Are you even married?"

"I _was_," the Kazekage told him archly. "For ten years."

"She finally leave your sorry, overworked ass?"

"No. She died."

"... Oh. Well, I feel like an asshole now."

* * *

"So, Temari, how did you like the tournament?" the Hokage asked her after the final ceremony was through and people were beginning to leave the stands. She smiled from her father's lap.

"Is she allowed in the panel?" the Kazekage asked uncertainly.

"Probably not... Maybe you could leave her with one of the Suna ninjas?"

The Kazekage nodded and picked up his daughter. "Princess, Daddy and the Hokage have to go to a meeting now to decide who makes Chunin, so I'm going to drop you off with Rando now, ok?"

"Why can't I come?"

"I'm sorry, but we have to meet in private."

"Was there someone you liked, Temari-chan?" the Hokage asked.

Temari nodded. "I liked the little boy."

"Me too," the Kazekage agreed. "He was very good, wasn't he? I'll recommend him for you, ok?"

"Thank you, Daddy," Temari said sweetly.

* * *

"Temari, tell me if you see Rando, ok?" the Kazekage asked, leading his daughter through the crowded stadium and occasionally checking his watch. "Temari?"

Temari pointed over at a group nearby. "Daddy? What are they doing?"

It was a family, a mother and father embracing a young boy, all with the same dark hair and eyes.

"They're hugging him."

Temari was puzzled by this. "Why?"

"I expect they're proud of him. That's the boy from the tournament that we liked, isn't it? They're probably pleased that he did so well, especially at his age."

Temari stared very hard at the boy and his family. She watched with an unfamiliar, unidentifiable pang as a little boy about Gaara's age ran up to the older boy shouting, "Good job, Nii-san!"

The older boy poked the younger one's forehead, knocking him back before he could get close, then laughed and embraced him. Temari kept watching the two brothers until her gaze caught the attention of the older one. His head snapped up, and their eyes met. He smiled at her, but Temari turned away quickly, sticking her nose up in the air, unsure why she was so embarrassed to be caught staring.

"Daddy," she asked as her father maneuvered them through the crowd. "If I make Chunin next year, will you be proud of me?"

Her father's eyes softened a little (he never smiled). "I am proud of you, Temari. I'm proud of both— all my children."

"Then why don't you ever hug us?" Temari asked quietly, but he was busy checking his watch to make sure he wasn't late for the meeting.

* * *

Itachi's family talked about the tournament and he should have done this move on that guy and when will he know if he made Chunin and what should they eat for dinner that night to celebrate, they could have anything he wanted, but he was barely listening to their chatter. His mind was on the little girl in the crowd with the proud bearing of a queen and the lost look of an orphan. He wondered who she was, where she was from, and if he would ever see her again.


	2. Back in Suna

Culture Shock

Chapter 2: Back in Suna

A/N: Well, I know that this started out as a oneshot, but since I love ItaTem, and since every once in a while I slip into angst mode, and it tends to bleed into my other stories, I thought, "why not write an actual angsty story and get it out of my system?"

Now, I should warn you, I suck as a serious writer, because, let's face it, my angsty stuff is real cliche. That's why I want to get rid of it before it infects Fairy Godmother Shukaku or any of my better fics.

So, the title has been changed from One Day at the Chunin Exams, the rating has been bumped up to "M", and if ShikaTem is your OTP, I'm going to tell you right now, you are reading the WRONG story.

**Warnings**: ItaTem (obviously), crack theories, Temari Angst, Lemon/Lime goodness, implied SasoTem, a pairing that could be Sandcest if you squint... Look, it's a kinky story from the depths of my disturbed mind, just be prepared for anything.

For those of you not completely familiar with Temari's family, Yashamaru is her mother's brother (the effeminate one who tried to kill Gaara), and her mother's name (according to Wikipedia) is Karura. Fugaku is Itachi's father.

* * *

"Temari, when we get home, I want you to apologize to your uncle. He must have been worried sick about you," her father lectured as they walked down the street to her uncle's house.

"I told Kankuro and Gaara where I was," Temari said. "And Yashamaru didn't even notice I was gone."

"I'm sure he noticed, and I'm sure he was worried. I know you don't like him, but he loves you kids very much."

"He loves Gaara very much," she said sullenly. "Kankuro and I might as well drop dead."

The Kazekage sighed but only knocked on the door in reply.

Yashamaru answered with his usual cheerful smile. "Hello!" he exclaimed in that voice of his that sounded so disturbingly soothing no matter what he was saying. He turned to call over his shoulder, "Kids! Your father's home!"

"Aw..." sighed a little boy.

"Baka, that means 'Mari's back!' Kankuro said, pushing open the door.

"Hey there, son," the Kazekage greeted him, but Kankuro ignored him completely and ran up to Temari, grabbing her hands in his.

"Sis! You're back!"

"I'm back," Temari laughed, swinging his arms around. "Are you ok? Did anything happen while I was gone? Come here, Gaara, how are you?"

Gaara stepped out shyly from behind his uncle. "I'm fine."

"That's good. I missed you two so much!"

"Was Konoha fun?" Kankuro asked eagerly.

"Uh-huh, it was amazing. It was like... a giant greenhouse, and there was a festival for the tournament, and," Temari wandered into the house, talking too fast for the adults to understand.

"Temari!" her father called. She returned reluctantly. "Don't you have something to say to your uncle?"

Temari rolled her eyes but bowed her head nonetheless. "I'm sorry, Yashamaru."

"For what, dear?"

Temari looked at her father accusingly. "I told you he didn't care," she muttered, running back to her brothers. The Kazekage didn't try to stop her, because one look at his former brother-in-law was enough to tell him that Temari was right; Yashamaru hadn't noticed his niece's absence.

"Tell us about the tournament, 'Mari," Kankuro begged after listening to her description of Konoha for a while. Gaara leaned in, interested. He didn't talk much, just sat on the floor, sucking his thumb, letting Kankuro ask for details, and soaking up everything his siblings said.

"Well, we did really well, Rando and Juura both made Chunin."

But Kankuro and Gaara saw Sand nins in action every day, and they wanted to hear what shinobi from other villages were capable of.

* * *

"... he lost in the third round, but he made Chunin afterwards," Temari finished telling about the little boy that she had seen.

"Didn't you say he was your age?" Kankuro asked in awe.

"No, a little older."

"Still... I guess Leaf really is as good as everyone says, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess, but if we had their resources we'd be even better," Temari said proudly. She was still at an age where she was fiercely and blindly loyal to her homeland, but, unbeknownst to her, a change had begun. Her visit to the outside world had shaken the foundations that her life stood on, and they had started, imperceptibly, to crumble away.

"I saw the little boy afterwards," she told her brothers. This was the part that she had really wanted to share. She had been thinking about it all week. She wanted to talk with her brothers about it and find out what they thought, and, also, she wanted to hug them. She wanted to see what that was like. "He was with his family."

"I bet they were happy with him," Kankuro said.

"Yeah, they were. They were all hugging him."

"Huh?"

"Y'know, hugging him. I guess, in Konoha, when somebody does something really great, you hug them."

"That's weird," Kankuro said, sneering. "Like, boyfriend-girlfriend hugging?"

"Kind of..." Temari said uncertainly. "It's hard to describe... it didn't look lovey-dovey, it just looked... nice. Like this—," she sprung on Kankuro and wrapped her arms around him.

"'Mari, get off!" he giggled, squirming.

"No." Temari laughed, squeezing him tighter. He squealed and tried to throw her off.

"Gaara, come here, help me get him!" she called.

"Don't listen to her, Gaara, she'll give you cooties!"

Gaara smiled and ran forward; to do what was unclear. He had his arms thrown open, but instead of joining his siblings he ran into a sand wall and bounced back.

"You ok?" Kankuro asked, offering him a hand. The sand pushed him away before he could get too close.

"I'm fine," Gaara said quietly, staring at the ground.

Temari didn't know why, but the image of the little boy and his brother popped into her head. "Do you want a hug?" she asked him, trying to make it sound half-joking, so they wouldn't tease her.

Gaara's eyes watered. "I can't. The sand won't let me."

Temari knew this was true; the sand didn't let anybody touch Gaara directly. Well, sometimes their father or Yashamaru would manage to pat him on the back, but mostly nobody was allowed near him. Her father said that eventually Gaara could learn to control it better, so he wasn't so isolated, but it was still almost impossible for him. And Temari knew what happened when you tried to touch him without the sand wanting you to; her uncle spent as much time with his own limbs broken as he did patching up sand-related injuries for others. But she didn't care; she wanted to give Gaara a hug. So she did.

* * *

"Mama likes me best," she bragged the next day at the breakfast table, causing her father to choke on a Fruity Pebble.

"What?!"

"I said Mama likes me best. She told Gaara so last night."

"Oh, she did now, did she? She told Gaara that?"

"Uh-huh. That's why she lets me hug him but not you or Kankuro or Yashamaru. She says that she'd like to protect me, too, but she's stuck with Gaara."

"She did?"

"Yup yup yup."

* * *

"Yashamaru, we need to talk."

Yashamaru was surprised to leave his house and find the Kazekage waiting for him with the angriest scowl imaginable.

"Sorry, I know I'm running late, but I wanted to buy some groceries before I picked Gaara up today, it's awful taking him into the store—,"

"Yash, today Temari informed me that her mother loves her the best."

"Aw, kids," Yashamaru smiled and continued walking, but the Kazekage stepped in front of him.

"Yash, you and I _both_ know that Karura didn't love a single damn one of those kids. So why do you think Gaara's going around telling her that she's her mother's favorite?"

"Oh, you know how kids are, they'd rather think their dead parents loved them than not."

"Yashamaru!"

"What? I think it's sweet."

"No, Yash. It's not sweet. Kids playing house is sweet. Kids playing invoke-the-dead is downright weird!"

"Don't be such a prude."

"Why is my son talking to my dead wife, Yashamaru?"

"Relax, he's probably just talking to Shukaku."

The Kazekage did not find this relaxing. "**Why does he think Shukaku is his mother?!"**

"No, he thinks his mother is Shukaku," corrected Yashamaru cheerfully. The Kazekage picked him up by his lapels and slammed him against the nearest wall. "Ok, ok, so I told him that Karura protects him, it's not my fault he got the two confused."

"You told him _what_?"

"That she–,"

"I heard what you said, you drugged up fairy, I just can't believe that you lied like that to my son!"

"It wasn't a lie, I really believe that she watches out for him... how else to do you explain the sand?"

"All right, Yash, I admit that I don't know what controls the sand, and that we never expected the demon to behave that way... but it's alert, maternal, and concerned about Gaara's well-being. It's not your sister."

"... You know, if you don't want Gaara spreading stories to the other two, you could always send him to come live with me," Yashamaru said hopefully.

"After the crap you've been telling them, I have half a mind to forbid you to ever speak to any of them again."

"NO!" Yashamaru grabbed beseechingly at the hands keeping him pinned to the wall. "Please, please, don't take him away from me... he's all I have left of her..."

The Kazekage looked at the groveling man with ill-disguised contempt. He'd always hated Yashamaru, from the moment he met him. No real reason, just hated him. And much as he'd like to get the brat off his hands, he certainly couldn't trust his youngest, most valuable, (and most costly...) child to him. Yashamaru loved Gaara, or, he did right now, but he also had Borderline Personality Disorder and was unreliable about taking his medication.

"Just don't let me hear any more crazy stories about her being Mommy's Favorite," he growled, walking away.

"Maybe you should be more concerned with her being Shukaku's favorite," Yashamaru muttered to himself.

The Kazekage stopped dead in his tracks.


	3. What Shikamaru Did

Culture Shock

Chapter 3: What Shikamaru Did

Disclaimer: All views expressed in this chapter are solely fictional and do **not** reflect KalliopeStarmist's opinions (especially on Shikamaru, whom I love dearly, just not with Temari).

* * *

From there on out, Temari was forbidden to hug her youngest brother and was also strongly advised against touching him at all. Her father explained that this was because the sand could be unpredictable, and even Gaara admitted this was true, even though he informed his father that his 'mother' was very very angry with him for making Temari afraid of her.

So, Temari had no one to hug. Kankuro, a born-and-bred Sand villager, didn't like too much physical contact, she rarely saw her father, and she wouldn't have gone near her uncle even if Yashamaru didn't treat her like something unpleasant that Gaara had dragged in to play with.

There was no one for her to talk to about this problem, so she was forced to sublimate her desire for physical affection. She shoved it off into the subconscious of her mind, which took it, repackaged it, and sent it back as a competitive streak and a craving for attention. These two things, combined with a forgotten longing for love and kindness, could have lead her into a lot of trouble farther down the road had things turned out differently.

But our story isn't quite that far yet.

Perhaps because he was the one member of her family who was distant enough that she hadn't become disillusioned with him yet, or perhaps it was simply the memory of the family that was so proud of their little boy, but much of what she did, she did in hopes of impressing her father. So making Chunin was very important to her.

Her sensei was surprised at how vehemently his oldest student had reacted to their true mission in Konoha. He had seen Temari unhappy; actually, he rarely saw her any other way, as she disliked his intrusion into her family, but she always put up with him and other disappointments with surly acquiescence. He couldn't have known how many times she had begged her father to let her and her brothers try out for Chunin, how happy she had been to finally be granted permission to go to the exams for the second time, now as a contestant, or how bitterly disappointed she was to discover that no one from Sand would be making Chunin that year... that if all went well, nobody from Leaf would be left to make Chunin, either, for that matter.

She had become considerably more optimistic as the final tournament rolled around. Even if they weren't expecting the signal, she couldn't fight more than two rounds before she came up against Gaara, and no shame in forfeiting there. She was confident she could get in two good fights. The first round would go quickly. Kankuro had already told her he was forfeiting; he needed Karasu ready for more life-or-death struggles. She didn't care what anyone said about Sasuke, Gaara would take him out in seconds. Much as she wanted to root for the loud blond kid, it was clear that the jerk who had beat up his baby cousin in the prelims was going to clean the floor with him, and as for her match... Dosu wouldn't be showing up (hehe) and it was laughable that the other kid had even gotten this far. She could easily be fighting against Shino before the signal came. And so what if she didn't make chunin, her father would be watching, for once... she didn't think he had ever had the opportunity to see her fight.

"Wish me luck," she whispered to Kankuro before jumping down to the arena for her first fight.

"What for?" he asked, looking pointedly over at Shikamaru.

* * *

So her defeat was humiliating enough to begin with. To go up against a skinny little no-account coward, to let him goad her into making so many mistakes, to be outwitted, to be captured hopelessly without a single drop of blood, without landing a single blow, in front of all those people, in front of her teacher, in front of the only three people she had left in the world, you'd think that would have been enough for him. In Suna that would be considered **overkill**. In _Suna_, you defeated your opponent fair, square, and indisputably, by knocking them out if possible, gloated, then shook hands (if/when they woke up) and that was it.

But that wasn't good enough for Shikamaru. No, he had to disgrace her, insult her. He captured her so damn easily, then forfeited, like she was some spoiled little child that you had let win! Like she couldn't have dealt with losing some stupid match! What was she supposed to do, _thank_ him for his mercy? She couldn't figure out what she had done, short of drawing the wrong number when they were setting the tournament, to deserve such treatment.

From that moment on, she hated Nara Shikamaru with all her heart. She didn't think this was unfair; he clearly had something against her and it wouldn't do her any good to try liking him. It didn't matter all that much to her that some poorly-planned war had been lost, she hadn't wanted to crush Konoha from the beginning. She and her brothers got out in one piece, so who cared? She was upset that she had lost so badly, and when she got home she found her father dead.

Ok, so she wasn't so far gone as to blame Shikamaru for that, although she sometimes wished that she could have, because the two events stuck together in her mind, and she could never think of one without the other. She had lost, and her father had died...

* * *

But Shikamaru aside, she liked Leaf, and she especially liked Naruto, because Gaara liked him so much, and because he had changed Gaara so much... back to how he used to be, before her uncle got ahold of him.

And when Gaara proposed (or, rather, demanded) they go to Konoha to assist Naruto and Pals in retrieving Uchiha Sasuke, she was all for it. Not because of Naruto, but because of Sasuke. Sasuke who looked so familiar but not quite, who always made her want to smile for no reason, even though he certainly wasn't friendly... And imagine how happy she was to find Shikamaru locked in a death struggle; to be able to put _him_ in _her_ debt.

That victory was short-lived. They were in the hospital waiting room, alone. He had just learned that his teammates would all be ok, were all stable after being in critical condition for so long, and he starts _crying_!

Temari was torn between being offended and amused, and went with amused. She could laugh at herself a little... she had lost to this guy? And what was his deal, anyway? They were FINE! They were going to live. He, a new chunin, a had lead a group of real low-level shinobi (no joke, she'd seen them all fight) against Orochimaru's best and brightest, and not only had they defeated most of them on their own, they all survived! That wasn't something to cry about, that was something to break out the champaign over! That was a miracle, was what it was! Why the hell was he crying?

She couldn't help teasing him about it a little. What a baby! She'd seen her comrades die in battle before and not been able to help them without jeopardizing the mission, without crying, yet he had made chunin over her. Maybe Leaf wasn't that great, maybe they just paid the judges a little bit more...

She also decided not to warn him that a man who could only be his father was standing in the doorway watching him. Maybe that was a _little_ cruel, but her defeat a few months earlier was still burning in the back of her mind. She couldn't bite back a little smirk when Shikamaru noticed him either. It was mean, but in her mind it squared them; he humiliates her in front of her father (or whatever), she lets him humiliate himself in front of his.

But no.

"Shikamaru? What's wrong?"

"Dad, I screwed up... I screwed up my first mission, and now Chouji's in the hospital, and..."

Temari rolled her eyes and ran her hand over her fan.

And then Shikamaru's father hugged him.

"Hey, it's ok, son... you did well."

This was too much for Temari. She barely managed to force here muscles into her poker face and walk away calmly instead of running... at least until she was out of the Naras' sight. Then she slammed into the women's bathroom, and, seeing she was alone in there as well, sat down on the floor and started crying. _Go figure,_ she thought to herself_. Just after I finish lecturing Shikamaru on his damn un-ninja-like conduct!_

Temari didn't cry often; her entire childhood had been a giant anti-emotion training exercise, but this was... It just wasn't... fair. He fails a mission, puts his whole team in the hospital, then starts bawling about it, and he did _well_? If she did that, you could bet your headband her father would not be patting her on the back and telling her she did well. She'd be doing D-rank missions for a month, if she got any missions at all. She could just see him going home with his father to have his mother start fussing over him to the point where it got annoying. She kept thinking, _he has all that, a family that really cares about him, friends that are willing to die for him, people who don't care if he can fight anything stronger than a squirrel... what did he have to gain by beating me so badly?_ All she really wanted was a little recognition from her family, from a father who referred to her by her registration number and a brother who didn't think she was worth the oxygen she took up. It seemed so sadistic to her, to have her chance ripped away by somebody who already had so much because he thought it was amusing to toy with her.

The bathroom door opened, and, too late, Temari wished that she had gone into a stall to have her breakdown.

"Temari-san? Is that you?"

Temari jumped to her feet and wiped her eyes quickly as Ino walked in. "Yes?"

"I- I just-," the younger kunoichi looked up at her, her blue eyes shining with tears. "Naruto told me that you saved Shikamaru," she said. Temari nodded once, cautiously, and Ino threw her arms around her neck and started crying into her shoulder.

"Thank you thank you thankyouthankyou," she sobbed over and over. Temari hesitated, then returned the hug, putting her arms around Ino's back. "I was so worried about him... if something had happened to him, I don't know what I would have done... I should have been there with him,"

"Shush, shush, it's ok," Temari whispered. For the first time in her life, she wished she had another sibling, a sister. "He's ok now."

"I thought, at first, that I was worried because he was a teammate, but now... I think," Ino smiled up at Temari, "maybe I'm in love with him."

A few seconds ago, she had been thinking how much she hated Shikamaru, how she would never help him with anything again, how she wished that she hadn't rescued him. But she saw how happy just knowing he was alive had made this girl, and she knew she didn't regret a thing. "You should go tell him that," she said. "Don't ever miss a chance to let somebody know you love them."

* * *

She didn't lose control of her emotions again for the rest of their trip, even when Shikamaru showed up to say goodbye to her. She could never let him know how badly he had hurt her; she would never give him another reason to think she was weak.

_Because I'm not weak. I've survived through more than you will ever have to deal with, and just because you're more intelligent than me does not mean that you possess any of my strength,_ she told him mentally as she smiled at him.

"You're not angry at Shikamaru?" Kankuro asked her as they were on the road home.

"What, with that squirt? Why would I be angry at him? I can lose once in a while, and I paid him back!" she answered vehemently. "He got what was coming! I'm over it!"

Kankuro blinked. "... I'd be ticked, too. I mean, hooking up with that Ino girl after all that flirting... not exactly cricket, is it?"

"Flirting?"

"Yeah, at the exams... you know, showing off by beating you and then forfeiting so you can go on in the tournament. Pretty chivalrous."

"_That's_ what he was doing?" Temari asked, stunned. "Trying to impress me?"

"Yeah."

Temari lapsed into silence, contemplating this. She had been so insulted by what had happened she hadn't considered that he had a goal other than total humiliation in mind. She had seen enough macho behavior from her brothers, she should have recognized what was going on. Maybe she simply hadn't expected an enemy combatant to find her attractive. So, he had thought he was helping her out, letting her move forward. perhaps he didn't even think of how hard such a 'victory' would be on someone as proud as she was. This was even more perplexing to her than the idea that he was trying to destroy her. Why would he try so hard to get her attention? What chance of a date with some foreigner could possibly be worth jeopardizing your opportunity to make chunin?

"Kankuro," she said suddenly. "I don't think I belong in Konoha."

"Of course not, 'Mari," her brother had laughed simply. "You belong in Suna."

"Hn," Temari replied noncommittally, because she had never really felt like she belonged there, either.


	4. Itachi's Girlfriend

Culture Shock

Chapter 4: Itachi's Girlfriend

A/N: Itachi's back in the picture! And that was the last of the anti-ShikaTem (Sorry, I just can't _stand_ that pairing, petty though I know that is.)

* * *

When Itachi was about 13 years old, his father had a chat with him about girls. He wanted to know if his son was interested in any of the local ladies, and he also wanted Itachi to know that he could talk to him about any problems he had.

Itachi had informed him simply that he was not interested in dating and would be needing no advice, thank you.

"Well, son, you say that now, but in a few years,"

"No, father. It isn't that I haven't developed an interest in women," (Itachi noticed his father relax slightly. He was probably afraid that he was gay.) "I just have no desire to waste time dating anyone."

Fugaku sighed. "Maybe this is partly my fault... We've put too much emphasis on your progress in training. You've proven clearly that you are a talented ninja, you can focus more on yourself now. You're a kid, you should be going out, having fun. Not everything is about your duty to the clan,"

"And yet the only reason you're concerned is because you want me looking for a wife to continue the clan," Itachi couldn't help but say. He was impatient for the interview to end; he had no time for his family's prying and hypocrisy.

"Itachi—,"

"I intend to take on all other responsibilities as the head of the Uchiha clan when you step down, but I refuse to marry. Sasuke's quite the heart-throb around town, I'm sure he will have no trouble providing an heir for me."

His father smiled fondly when Sasuke was mentioned, as he always did, but quickly returned to the topic at hand, clearly displeased. "This is childish, Itachi. I admit, it is important to the clan that you find somebody, but that is besides the point. It isn't healthy to isolate yourself like this. You should at least be talking to girls. You'd change your mind about dating soon enough."

"I highly doubt that."

"Don't be so cynical. You just haven't met anyone you like yet. That's fine, that's normal, but it's no reason to throw in the towel."

Itachi nodded not because he agreed but because he was tired of talking. "Father..." he asked after a moment, "When you first saw Mother, what did you think? Did you know you were in love?"

"Well," his father laughed, "when I saw her the first time, I thought 'this is the most beautiful woman in the world, and if I don't talk to her right now, I will hate myself for the rest of my life.' I was in love, but... no, I don't think I realized it right away."

Itachi nodded. "It takes a few days," he mumbled.

Fugaku smiled slyly. "Oh, so there is a girl?" he asked, picking up on the meanings behind his son's questions, for once.

"Yes," Itachi said frankly, but offered no more information.

"Is she in your class?"

"No. She is not from Konoha." He wondered if she was a shinobi. She would be a very good one, he had no doubt.

"That can be tough," Fugaku admitted. "But if you really care about her, maybe it's worth the effort to give it a try. What's her name?"

Itachi shrugged.

"Don't tell me if you don't want to, but-,"

"I don't know her name, father. I saw her once at a festival when I was young."

"Itachi, is this a joke?"

Itachi rolled his eyes, annoyed. The one time he decides to be honest his father thinks he's joking. Might have a lot to do with why he never tells anybody anything. But any minute he would realize he was serious, and then...

"What do you mean, _you only saw her once_?"

His father started in on a tirade one part pleading, one part yelling. Itachi tried not to listen, reminding himself that he had been through the very arguments that his father would now use against him. It was silly, naive, completely idiotic, to be in love with a girl you had only seen once, had never spoken to, and would never meet. He was too pragmatic to believe in love at first sight, in one true loves.

But no matter how he tried to tell himself that, the feeling he had wasn't silly or idealistic. It was real, in a way that no little emotion he had ever felt was. Itachi knew. He was in love with that odd little blond girl from the year he made chunin. He knew nothing about her, but he knew that he could never possibly love anyone else, and it was pointless waste time playing the field.

He conjured up her image as his father ranted. No doubt his imagination had improved on it over the years, but what did it matter? He would never see her again. He would never love anyone else. Itachi had resolved himself to this, and that nailed the lid on the coffin of his love life.

In many ways it was a relief. He listened to his cousin Shisui (his friend by token of the proximity of their ages) talk about sex and women; it all seemed very juvenile to Itachi. It was hard to believe that if he hadn't looked up for that one minute so long ago, he would be worried about all these trivial things. Sex didn't interest him; the girl's eyes held a desire more alluring than anything sexual could offer. Her eyes challenged him. He had to be the best he could if he could ever protect her, or compete with her. He wasn't sure which he wanted to do.

"Be logical, Itachi! You can't be in love with this girl. You're too young to know what—,"

Itachi had had enough. He stood up and walked out.

"Get back here! You can't walk away from this, Itachi! Listen to me,"

Itachi leaned against a fence, staring at the clan crest on the opposite wall. He could feel his hands shaking against the wood, full of angry energy.

"Nii-chan?"

Itachi's head snapped down to meet his little brother's eyes. Sasuke stared back at him, his young face full of innocent distress. "Did you and Father have another fight?"

"Yes, Sasuke. But don't worry, it has nothing to do with you."

"What was it about?"

"Nothing to do with you," Itachi repeated. He saw his mother emerge from the house out of the corner of his eye. His father had gotten to her, she would come to talk with him. Soon Shisui would be out there, too, and the others, swarming him with their questions and demands. Itachi suddenly felt suffocated. He pushed himself off of the fence, launching himself towards the woods.

Sasuke trotted after him. "Nii-chan, wait! Where are we going?"

Itachi made no move to stop him. "Practicing, Sasuke-chan. I need to let off some steam."

"I'm coming too, Nii-chan," the little boy said defiantly.

"I can't train you today, Sasuke, I'm too distracted. But if you don't mind watching, I'd like to have you there."

Sasuke nodded as he ran to keep up. "I'll be good. Will you tell me what you and Father were arguing about?"

"Maybe, Sasuke-chan." It wasn't fair to burden Sasuke with his stupid concerns. The boy would have enough of his own soon enough.

"Tell me. I want to know."

"Very well. Father doesn't like the girl that I'm in love with, that's all."

"The girl you met at the Chunin exams?" Sasuke asked. Itachi stopped his run for the first time to look at him.

"You know about her?"

Sasuke giggled at his absent-minded brother. "Yes. You told me about her, remember?"

"So I did."

"I'm on your side, Nii-chan," Sasuke said emphatically. "And when you see her again, you should ask her to marry you, no matter what Father says."

Itachi laughed aloud. Sasuke was so pure; he still believed in all that fairy tale nonsense, that he would see his love again, that she would be in love with him and they would get married and live happily ever after. Itachi couldn't ever remember being a child like Sasuke. It must be nice. "I will, Sasuke. I won't let Father push me around."

* * *

A/N: All right, enough background, next chapter we get into both the actual plot (yes, there is one) and the M-rated stuff! Aren't you happy?


	5. Sand Hits the Fan

Culture Shock

Chapter 5: Sand Hits the Fan

A/N: Last warning, this is an "M" rated fic from the twisted depths of my imagination, which I have said again and again, so don't say I didn't warn you. (Kallie doesn't write stuff like this very often and is nervous about posting.)

I've been posting this everywhere, but in case you didn't hear, I just started my freshman year of college (my first class is 12 hours from now, actually), so if I take a while to respond to a review, don't respond, or take a while to update, blame my teachers. XD

* * *

Once upon a time, an aspiring young jounin named Baki volunteered to take on a squad of rookies and teach them the ropes.

Unfortunately for him, he just happened to pick the year that Gaara was made a genin, and the Sand Sibs (which they were called even in Suna) became a team. A team without a sensei.

So, we see right off the bat that Baki has horrible timing.

Like everyone else in Suna, Baki was scared to death of the Kazekage's children, so everything that they did came as something of a surprise to him.

Their house wasn't full of dead bodies or instruments of torture.

They watched the same TV shows he did.

They joked around with one another.

They argued over whose turn it was to do the dishes.

They clearly loved each other very much.

They had normal, everyday teenage problems on top of everything else they put up with.

And they put up with a lot.

But perhaps the biggest surprise was the morning when he woke up and realized that he was very fond of all three of them. They were good kids, for the most part. You could tell, after a while, when Gaara was just bluffing versus when he was really feeling homicidal. Kankuro was always smiling and laughing off whatever came his way, and Temari's determination made her a dream to teach. Of course, she clearly hated his guts, but she wasn't about to let a little thing like that stop her from learning from him.

He knew that their father wasn't exactly good to them, but, well, there wasn't much you could do about the Kazekage, and anyway, they wouldn't be the first kids to grow up with useless parents.

There was something else Baki knew, too. But he was helpless to do anything about it. He couldn't tell them. All he could do was watch, and try to be there.

But like I said earlier, Baki has horrible timing.

* * *

On the day that everything came crashing down, he was feeling uneasy. He couldn't say why. It was a normal day; Gaara was in a particularly bad mood, but as he had been trying to contain himself since their ill-fated trip to Konoha, this wasn't anything to worry about. There weren't any missions for them that day, so they did a few practice exercises, and he dropped the kids off at their house and went back to his house to have a cup of tea and some instant ramen.

The teacup cracked as he reached for it.

Baki wasn't very superstitious, so this didn't phase him except for a little, and that was mostly because of that nervous feeling he hadn't been able to shake all day. He threw the broken cup in the sink and went to get another one.

Which is when he noticed his calendar.

It was a cheap one that he'd gotten on sale sometime in February, but it still had the lunar phases on it. And that's how he realized that tonight the moon would be full.

"_It's worst when the moon is full... It's stronger... and it wants out... it wants..."_

"Oh shit."

* * *

Temari made her youngest brother some hot chocolate when they got home, but there weren't any clean mugs, so she used a Styrofoam cup, which didn't crack for her.

"Here you go, Gaara," she said gently, setting it on the floor carefully next to the corner where he was curled up. He reached out and grabbed it without looking at her.

Temari sighed. He had these moods more and more often lately, and they seemed to get worse each time. "Gaara, Kankuro's out playing with his dolls... do you want to talk? Just you and me?"

Gaara turned towards the wall, further away from her. "No."

"Please, Gaara. I want to help you. I love you."

Gaara bowed his head, almost curled into a fetal position as he already was, and threw the half-empty cup across the room. "Get away from me, Temari!"

Temari inched back at this display of violence, but she soon regained her courage. She smiled sadly, then did something that she hadn't had the nerve to do for years. She hugged her little brother.

"Temari... please... stop...," she heard him whimper. She might have let go in a second, hearing how pathetically miserable he sounded to have her there, but before that second was up he let out a roar and slammed a sand arm into her so hard that she flew across the room and hit the wall on the other side.

Temari coughed and wiped a little blood off her lips. It had been over a year since he'd had an outburst like that. "Gaara, I'm sorry," she whispered, hoping he could hear her. "I'll leave, right now... I'm sorry." She needed to catch her breath; the impact had knocked the wind out of her, but she knew it was more important to get out of the room first. It took effort to stand, but she did.

"No, don't leave, Temari," Gaara begged. His voice had changed, deepened, but in such an odd way... his accent... it made her shiver, and she suddenly _needed_ to get away from him as fast as possible. The pain in her lungs was nothing compared to her fear.

But it was too late. Sand had wrapped around her legs, anchoring her to the floor.

"Stay, please," Gaara said, moving towards her. He was coated in sand, and it was falling off of him in streams as he walked without making a dent in the coating, like he was forcing it off as fast as it piled on. "I didn't mean to hurt you. The transition is difficult, you understand... I'm sorry... forgive me, Temari." He reached for her, but she yanked her arm backwards. "It won't happen again," he assured her in that voice that made her panic worse. "I would never hurt you."

He took another step forward and reached for her again, and once again she tried to struggle free, but this time sand had run around her arms as well, keeping them in place at her sides and making it almost impossible for her to move.

"Gaara, come on, stop it," she whispered. The sand fountain seemed to be slowing; she could see him smile psychotically from under the last few grains dripping off his hair. There was still a thin layer caked around him, making him look almost like a different person. Almost not human.

"But, Temari," he wrapped his arms around her waist and stared intently at her, black and yellow eyes that weren't Gaara's. "I'm not Gaara. You _know_ who I am."

Temari shuddered as she nodded. "Shukaku..." So she was going to die. "Gaara, Gaara," she called softly, hoping that whatever part of her brother was still conscious would hear her.

"Don't worry, he won't be waking up," the demon grinned, running its tongue along her neck. "We're alone."

Temari cringed. "What do you want?"

Shukaku seemed to find this funny. "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? How perfect? Even when you were young," he paused to kiss her shoulder. She tried to pull free again, but the sand on her limbs tightened painfully. "you were so far above anybody I had ever seen before... of course, you were too young for _this_," he licked her cheek again, "but humans age quickly. And you've grown up more beautiful than I imagined..."

All this was so unthinkably horrifying that Temari couldn't quite believe it was happening. She could feel his hands on her back, the sharp little claws tearing through the back of her dress and scratching along her spine. This wasn't something that would actually happen. This couldn't happen. "Gaara, this isn't funny," she said sternly, still holding onto the tatters of denial.

"I'm not Gaara, try to remember that," Shukaku smirked lasciviously. "Otherwise this will be very uncomfortable for you,"

Temari's mouth dropped open. Uncomfortable. And knowing that her brother's alter-ego was the one ripping her clothes off was supposed to be _comforting_?

Still grinning in that depraved, menacing way, Shukaku kissed her, forcing his tongue between her lips before she could react. This was something Temari was equal to, however, and she clamped her teeth down with all her might.

Her teeth sliced clean through his tongue as though it was nothing more solid than Jello, but rather than bellowing in pain or (better yet) releasing her, Shukaku merely chuckled. The next second, the severed tongue had dissolved, and Temari was trying to spit out the sand now coating her mouth.

"You don't need to be so afraid," the demon whispered as she coughed. "I love you. I won't hurt you," he said, apparently trying to soothe her. Temari gagged and tried to catch her breath so she could think clearly, barely stopping herself from biting down again when he ran his recently-reformed tongue against the side of her mouth. "_I want you to enjoy this too._"

"You think I'm going to _enjoy_—," Temari bit back her retort, clamped her mouth shut quickly, and twisted her head away before he could make any more progress on her mouth.

"You will," Shukaku smirked. The sand around her legs was trying to pull them apart, and the more she resisted, the more it dug into her limbs. Temari gulped and ignored the pain as she tried to keep her feet solidly on the ground. He was pushing his claws into her back, forcing her to arch toward his body. He rested his cheek against her shoulder, almost purring. "Before we start... there's one thing... I'm very sorry, love. It will only hurt a moment,"

Small eddies of sand had been climbing along her body throughout this, occasionally tearing small holes in her dress, but these were such a minor part of what was going on that she had ignored them to concentrate on more pressing dangers, but now some of them grouped around her left breast and ripped through the cloth, lacerating her skin.

Living with Gaara in the middle of a desert, Temari was used to getting scraped up by sand, but nothing, no injury she had ever had, sand-inflicted or otherwise, had been so painful. It felt like more than just flesh had been ripped out of her body; it felt like the sand had torn off a piece of her soul. She couldn't bear pain this intense. She had to cry out.

Shukaku didn't use this to force another kiss, and Temari wasn't sure she would have had the presence of mind to care if he did. He was nibbling on her shoulder in some sick sort of apology. "Shh, my dearest. It was for—,"

What it was for, Temari never found out, because she was yanked out of her world violently, as though a giant hand had decided to change her location.

The sand was suddenly gone from her limbs, making them shaky after having been under so much pressure. Fortunately, someone had one arm wrapped around her, supporting her shaking knees. Temari drew a deep breath. A substitution jutsu had rescued her; she would know that feeling of disorientation anywhere.

"Shh, don't make any noise," Kankuro warned, glancing down at her quickly before turning his attention to doorway they were standing hidden behind. Temari followed his gaze to see Shukaku molesting what looked like her, although she knew immediately that it was one of her brother's puppet's ingenious disguises.

"Kan–,"

"Sh! If he hears you..." Kankuro's finger twitched, and the dummy in the other room turned her head away. "Are you ok? Anything broken?"

"N-no."

"Get out of here," he said in an undertone. "Karasu's not going to last long with what that thing's doing to it, and then it's going to come looking for you."

Temari hesitated. Kankuro looked down at her again, anxious and annoyed. "Temari, go! Get out of here! Who knows how long it will take to get Gaara back, and if it finds you before–,"

"I can't leave you alone with it!" Temari objected quietly.

"You have to! I can't buy you much more time, hurry!"

"No, Kankuro, I—,"

Kankuro pushed her quickly and went back to his other task. "GO!"

Temari stumbled a few feet, and was about to turn around to help her brother, but Baki, who had finally, _finally_ made it to their house, grabbed her to steady her.

Kankuro noticed him out of the corner of his eye. "Sensei, get her out of here," he ordered. "Gaara is— Shukaku is–,"

"I know," Baki said tensely. Temari shuddered and pressed against her teacher's chest. "I wasn't fast enough... I wanted to prevent this..." he whispered, half to himself, wrapping his arms around his student. "Temari, listen to me," he said urgently, holding her close to him to whisper in her ear. "You need to get away from here. If Shukaku hadn't been fully unleashed we may have been able to... but that doesn't matter now. _Leave Suna_. Find somewhere else, somewhere safe... maybe Konoha, just _leave_. Get as far away as you can, because the demon will come after you. Kankuro and I will hold him off as long as we can, and we'll try to get Gaara back, but, even if we do, if he sees you he'll lose control again. You need to run, to get a head start. Do you understand?"

"But-," Temari's breath was coming more steadily now, but she still couldn't process what was happening. Very uncertainly, she broke away from Baki to grab her fan off the wall. "You and Kankuro—,"

In the next room, Shukaku let out an infuriated roar; presumably he had discovered the switch.

"We'll be fine!" Kankuro yelled at her, throwing himself in the doorway between her and the demon. "GO!"

Temari wanted to stay, to protect her brother, but the rest of her was terrified by the very notion of being caught by Shukaku again, that she began running blindly without thought of stopping, with no idea where she was going.

* * *

She was far beyond city limits when what had happened began to set in. Gaara– Shukaku, not Gaara, Gaara loved her, had tried to– and Kankuro was in so much danger, and how did Baki know—,

She pushed the thoughts away, or tried to, but the memories only refreshed her adrenalin, and she began jogging towards Konoha once again. She had acquaintances there... Gaara's best (first, only) friend, Rock Lee, would be willing to help her. She didn't care that day was dawning, that she had been running all night. The faster she got to Konoha, the sooner she could get a message back to Suna, and find out how her brothers were.

It wasn't until the next afternoon that she started to slow and think. Her arms and legs, along her back, and the wound on her breast had all been bleeding, and sand had stuck to the blood and sweat, coating her. Her clothes were in tatters; she wasn't entirely sure that her underwear were still there at all. She had been running through the desert nonstop with no water, food, or rest, and she was beginning to feel it. But the worst part was that at the rate she had been running, for as long as she had been running, the landscape should have begun to turn to scrub land, but all she could see was sand. In her panic, she had left through the wrong gate and run deeper into desert.

Over a day without water, in the desert, with all her wounds and all she had been through, slowly overwhelmed her, and Temari's strength finally drained, leaving her lying, grit-covered and bloody, in the sand.


	6. The Kazekage's Decision

Culture Shock

Chapter 6: The Kazekage's Decision

A/N: First off, Antifishestablishmentarianist has done an illustration for this (don't worry, it's from the first chapter, not the fifth.) Link's on my profile, so you should definitely go check it out!

Hehe... I guess the last chapter threw everybody for a loop... I know that my crack pairings are usually a little fluffier than the most twisted form of Sandcest on record, and that Chibi Sasuke didn't exactly prepare you for the next chapter... so I guess I'm just flattered you're still reading and didn't flame me mercilessly.

First few paragraphs aren't too good this time, I'm afraid. The fact that Baki's skills are very vaguely defined didn't help me in writing this, either.

I was writing this in my dorm, and I kept practicing my "angry Kazekage glare"... I hope my roommate doesn't think I'm glaring at her.

* * *

More than anything else, more than battle, more than torture, more than death, Kankuro feared Shukaku. To live knowing that a creature from his worse nightmares was lurking quietly somewhere inside the little boy sitting across from him at breakfast, fighting alongside him, walking next to him, so close to him at all times... One small slip-up, and that thing would emerge, and his life would instantly be in its inhuman hands.

And yet there he was, standing in the doorway with Shukaku running towards him, and even though a sideways glance from Gaara was enough to make him quiver, he wasn't shaking at all. He wasn't running or looking for a way out. Because the longer he stood there, the longer he kept it busy, the farther away Temari could get.

He had never given much thought to the knowledge that he would die to protect his sister if the need arose. He probably would have said that he would, but he would never expect to find her in danger. Or, rather, he did expect to find her in danger, and often, but he could never imagine a situation where he would have to step forth and bail her out.

And now he was going to die. This wasn't as frightening a proposition as he expected. His death wasn't really as important as he had thought it would be. He had thought that if he was dying, he would be thinking about it. But he wasn't. He was worrying about Temari. He was worrying that he and Baki wouldn't be able to buy enough time for her to get away. The sand protected all weak points; there was no way for the two of them to stop Shukaku; they would have to wait for Gaara to reawaken. All they could do was delay him as long as possible. He would have to draw his death out.

Shukaku slammed into him, trying to knock him out of the doorway, but Kankuro held onto the frame. Kankuro could see one advantage immediately; released, Shukaku was usually much larger, but this time he had kept his form much smaller and more humanoid so that Temari—, Kankuro gagged at the thought. Never mind why the demon had changed his form, he had, and he clearly wasn't used to it.

"MOVE, you pathetic excuse for existence!" Shukaku demanded angrily. In his true form a blow like that would have smashed Kankuro's chest in, and he was frustrated by how weak his current condition left him. That he couldn't even force this child out of the way. He reached up and grabbed Kankuro's throat in one hand, tightening his grip, drawing little pinpricks of blood where his claws scraped the skin. But he wasn't tall enough to lift him off his feet, and the boy's grasp on the doorframe held, even though he was turning blue.

"Uh... Ba..ki? Feel... free.. to... help... out," Kankuro croaked. His vision was beginning to swim, his grip was weakening... Any second now he would pass out.

Lest you be left with the impression that Baki wasn't trying, it should be noted that Kankuro was blocking his path to Shukaku, and any attempt to attack would have been very risky.

Kankuro finally crumpled, releasing his grip on the doorframe, and Shukaku tossed him to the side and began to search for signs of Temari.

"What did you do with her?" he demanded of Baki, who was blocking the path to the front door, chakra sword in hand. "Where is she?"

"You'll have to step over my cold dead corpse to find her," Baki growled, swinging his sword down on Shukaku's head. He held up his arm to protect himself, creating a sand coating that prevented the weapon from making contact.

"Don't be a fool," he snarled as Baki once again tried to land a blow, and was once again blocked by the sand. "Brothers do things like this, but she's nothing to _you_."

"She's my responsibility. I vowed to protect these three, and no matter what, I will."

"A stupid vow, and one you're fast on your way to breaking," Shukaku snarled, ducking away from the sword once more. "Even if you were to hit me, it would be the boy that bleeds. This is his body, remember."

Baki hesitated, ever so slightly. It was easy to forget, in his current form, that Gaara was still alive in there.

"Let me pass," Shukaku said. "It was foolish of you to send her away... she could be in danger. I'll bring her back home and keep her _nice_ and _safe_..."

Kankuro fists, still shaking from oxygen deprivation, clenched angrily. He sprung to his feet, not noticing the pain as he breathed. "You sick fuck!" he screamed, launching himself at Shukaku. "_Don't you dare touch my sister!_"

Shukaku didn't have time to react. He had thought Kankuro was dead or unconscious, unable to attack. It wasn't until Kankuro's fist collided with his face, cracking the sand coating over his nose, that he reacted. He slashed one clawed arm down on Kankuro, ripping away his shirt and leaving gashes across his chest.

Kankuro, barely alive to begin with, was pushed backward, barely managing to land on his feet before sinking down on his knees, one hand against the ground, supporting him. "Don't... talk about our sister like that," he panted.

Shukaku laughed cruelly, and was about to reply, when his nose twitched. "That smell..." He grabbed at his forehead, as if he had a headache. "What... it's just blood..." he whispered.

His voice changed. "_But it's my blood. I can smell it. It's my blood_."

"NO! It's just blood! Go back to sleep!"

"_What did you do? Why am I bleeding?"_

"You're not! Shut up!"

"_What's going on? Where is that smell coming from? Tell me!"_

The sand cracked and fell off of Shukaku's body. The claws shrank away, the eyes began to change, and finally it was only Gaara, shivering uncertainly in the middle of the floor. "Ka-Kankuro?" he whispered, his eyes widening at the sight of his brother bleeding on the floor. "Wh- what did I do?"

"Nothing, Gaara," Kankuro choked, coughing up some blood. "It wasn't your fault."

Gaara sank to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself, clutching at his shoulders. "Where's Mari? He didn't get her, did he? Is she safe?"

Baki patted his shoulder as he walked by him to Kankuro. "She's safe, Gaara."

"Sensei... I didn't ... hurt her, did I? Because sometimes... it..."

"I know. You didn't hurt her. Here, help me get Kankuro to the hospital."

* * *

No one questioned what had caused Kankuro's injuries, why Gaara was crying, or where Temari was. It have been that they could fill in enough of the blanks on their own, and didn't want to cause the family more pain with their questions. But that wasn't it. They simply didn't care. It could not possibly have mattered less to the medic who stitched Kankuro's chest what had happened to him. It was her job to take care of him, but who cared, really, if any of them died? Baki was never sure if the children noticed how differently they were treated, but the difference was clear to him whenever he was with them.

It took no time at all to stabilize Kankuro and leave the three alone, and for once, Baki was grateful for Suna's lack of concern. None of them wanted prying questions at the moment.

"Gaara?" Kankuro sat up as soon as he was certain they were alone, and no one was likely to snap at him to lie still. "Are you ok?"

Gaara was not ok. Gaara was curled up on the window sill, sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Kankuro... I tried so hard not to lose control... but she kept hugging me, and it..."

"Hey, it's not your fault," Kankuro said, smiling. "I'm just glad you're back... Does our blood really smell that alike?" he sniffed at the bandage around his chest. "It all just smells like iron to me."

"I don't ever want to hurt you guys... I told him to stay away from her, I tried,"

"I know you did, Gaara," Kankuro said. "I know you would never hurt 'Mari. It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done."

"I've stopped him before," Gaara whimpered. "He just... got away this time..."

"It had to happen sometime," Baki assured him. "You couldn't have prevented him forever."

"Yeah, Sensei, you seem pretty well informed on this whole thing," Kankuro said, "Showing up in the nick of time and everything... I don't suppose one of you feels like filling me in?"

Gaara blinked reddened eyes at Baki. "How did you find out? I never told anyone..."

Baki sighed. There was no point in hiding it from them any more.

* * *

A few years ago, the Kazekage had called a small, private meeting of the Sand jounin.

"A few of you already know this, but I feel that it has reached the point where I need to inform everyone. The demon inside Gaara is obsessed with Temari. We believe that her age has been a deterrent thus far, but as she gets older, he will begin to pursue her more actively. Gaara's ability to control the demon is still improving, but it is still tentative."

Baki hadn't been an jounin very long at the time, and braced himself for an unsavory standing order for the jounin to come between the demon and the girl if the situation ever arose. He couldn't say he was happy about this extreme form of babysitting, but he had become a shinobi to protect the people of his village, even if they needed protecting from their own brothers. And on the more selfish side, there was certainly no faster way to gain brownie points than to rescue the Kazekage's little daughter...

"She recently became a genin, and I have given her my permission to become Gaara's guardian."

This was a bit confusing to Baki. He wondered if he had missed something while he was daydreaming. "Um, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Won't that be dangerous for both of them? If his control is so fragile, then–,"

"Exactly. Gaara undoubtably knows the demon's intentions. What better motivation to maintain control than to protect his sister? And if he should fail and the demon is released, it will be occupied with her, so we will be able to buy more time to subdue it. If he is not with her when he loses control, then one of you should find her."

The others were nodding solemnly, and Baki couldn't quite believe it. The Kazekage never smiled, it was well known, but the only time he came close was when Temari was around. And here he was, calmly discussing throwing her to a monster.

"Also, I want you to consider this information classified. Please do not discuss this with civilians or lower-level ninjas."

"Not even her?" Baki couldn't help but ask. The Kazekage stared at him dispassionately.

"Especially not her. I do not want Temari or Kankuro to know about the demon. Gaara will never master control if they take precautions on their own."

"But she'll be in danger... she should be warned... something..."

"You forget your place. I assure you, I have already thought through this. It is best."

"She's your daughter!"

The Kazekage's gaze turned icy. "She is not my daughter," he said coldly. "She is a shinobi of the Village of the Sand, and she knows as well as any of you that the welfare of this village comes first. Dismissed."

"But, sir—,"

"_Dismissed_," the Kazekage said forcefully, glaring pointedly at Baki.

* * *

"So... all of the jounin already knew?" Kankuro asked. Baki nodded.

"I would have told you, but..."

"Nah, don't worry about it," Kankuro said, smiling, "I guess Dad could be a pretty scary guy... I never talked to him enough to know, myself. You know," he laughed, pacing along the floor next to the visitors' chairs, "I always promised myself that I wouldn't be one of those over-protective brother types who disapproves of everybody his sister dates, but even I have to draw the line somewhere, I guess... I don't know why Temari can't attract anyone normal... but I guess if it's ok with Dad... and it's not like he was trying to kill her... he was a hell of a guy, huh?" he said, smiling. "I mean, pimping out his daughter to appease an evil spirit that he had unleashed... What a great father, right?"

This was how Kankuro dealt with things; sarcasm, laugh it off. But the laughter sounded strained, he was talking quickly, in a high, anxious voice, and when Baki looked up at him he noticed a tear running down the boy's cheek.

"Kankuro?"

Kankuro gulped and tried to keep his smile from wavering, but it didn't last long. The mask broke down, and he started sobbing, leaning on his teacher for support. "_I hate him!_ I hate him so much! Just hate him! How could he? How _could_ he? She's his daughter... and she loves the stupid evil bastard! She'll never admit it, but she does! She always did, and she wasn't anything more to him than another distraction for that _thing_! How dare he treat her and Gaara like that? His own children..."

"It wasn't his fault, Kankuro-nii-san," Gaara said, timid after seeing his brother so upset. Kankuro never cried. "I should have learned to control—,"

"SHUT UP, GAARA!" Kankuro yelled. "Don't you dare try to take responsibility for this! You've never done anything wrong! You're just another victim of his stupid evil bastard plans, you always have been! You don't deserve the blame for this. For anything!"

"Kankuro—," Baki hugged him, awkwardly, since Kankuro was almost as tall as he was, and Baki was not in the practice of giving hugs. "It's ok... It'll be ok."

Kankuro broke into tears again. "I wish my father was like you... I wish you were my real father..."

Gaara slowly uncurled from his fetal position and inched over to his brother and teacher. Once, long, long ago, Temari had done something like this to him... He had thought his mother wanted her around... if only he had known what was really going on. As long as he could remember, he had known that there was another being inside him, and this being liked being around Temari. It wasn't until he was older that he truly understood what that meant, and he had never dared to tell anyone. He was too ashamed. If he had told her, would this have happened?

Gaara wrapped his arms around his brother as best as he could, and Kankuro and Baki responded by pulling him into the hug.

"I'm worried about Temari," he whispered.

"I know, little brother," Kankuro whispered back, pulling him tighter into the circle. "I know."


	7. Rescue, un

Culture Shock

Chapter 7: Rescue, un

A/N: Woo, long chapter, here... sorry about that.

Also, I'm not a doctor and don't know anything about sunstroke. Just go with it.

**Dark Zetsu **Light Zetsu... because that's the easiest way to distinguish.

* * *

"So, we're supposed to just... kidnap this girl right out from under its nose, un?" Deidara asked his partner, rearranging his straw hat to keep the desert sun out of his face. "That sounds... impossible, yeah."

"I don't think she'll put up a fight. That will make it easier."

"Well, that's no fun. How are we supposed to find her again?"

"I'll ask around. Most of the jounin know who she is, and I have methods for making them talk..."

"Yet you haven't been able to find out so far, un. What the hell is that?"

Sasori glanced at the lump half-buried in the sand. "Dead body. Just leave it."

But Deidara was already poking at the body. "Cool, un."

"You are so immature."

The lump groaned as Deidara jabbed at its side. "It's still alive, yeah!" he exclaimed with an almost childish excitement, brushing the sand off it to reveal the mangled body of a young woman.

"Well, it won't be for long," Sasori groaned impatiently. The woman's head twitched weakly, like she was looking for the source of the voice.

"What do you think happened to her?" Deidara asked, tracing the symbol on the headband wrapped around her neck.

Sasori scuttled closer, the joints in Hiruko clicking. The girl heard and began to struggle feebly.

"Shh, it's ok," Deidara assured her, brushing away the sand stuck to her eyes so she could see better. "We're going to help you, yeah."

"If you consider putting her out of her misery—," Sasori broke off. "Hmm..."

"Yashamaru?" the girl whispered hoarsely at Deidara. "Why are you here?"

"Look at that, Deidara!" Sasori laughed. "She mistook you for a man! That's a first for you, isn't it?"

"Am I dead, Yashamaru? It still hurts..."

Deidara looked over at Sasori.

"Sunstroke. She's hallucinating," he explained. "Give her a little water... not too much, or she'll go into shock,"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Deidara muttered, pouring a little water from his flask into the girl's mouth while propping her head up with the other so she wouldn't choke. "I take it we aren't 'putting her out of her misery', then? Endearing how she knows I'm male? Are we talking her back to her home?"

"No, back to ours. This is the girl, Deidara."

"Oh, come off it. I know you hate going back, un, but we can't just snag the first–,"

"Look." A chakra thread shot out from the scorpion-puppet and pulled one of the girl's arms into the air. "See how her skin has been rubbed off like that? Those are sandburn marks... like ropeburn, only they hurt a lot worse." He turned the arm. "And these are all the way around, on all her limbs, like they'd been wrapped in sand. And only one thing is capable of making sand behave that way-,"

"And it's hanging in your closet, yeah."

"... ok, only one living thing is capable of making sand behave that way, and it looks like she was running away from a nasty brush with it."

Controlled by Sasori's strings, the girl stood up and climbed onto Hiruko's back.

"Kankuro? Kankuro, where are you? What are you doing?" she asked, looking around uncertainly, her limbs shaking despite Sasori's efforts to support her. "Yashamaru," she asked Deidara, "Why's Kankuro-kun here? Is he dead, too? Kan-kun? Are we dead?"

Deidara pulled his cloak off and draped it over her, tying the sleeves to Sasori's puppet to keep her from rolling off. It seemed likely, in her mental condition. "No, you're not dead, darling, un. We're taking you somewhere safe."

"Thank you, Yasha... if you see Gaara, could you ask him to stay away for a while?"

"Gaara is the boy's name, isn't it?" Sasori asked Deidara, who shrugged. "Don't worry, he won't be there, dear."

She smiled, closing her eyes. "Good... but, it wasn't his fault. Tell him that, Yashamaru? Tell him that I know it wasn't his fault... Is this a new puppet, Kan-kun?"

"Yes," Sasori said, beginning to walk back in the direction they had come. "Now, you must lie very still, sweetheart, or you might set off one of the traps. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Kankuro. I'll be careful."

"This is the easiest kidnaping we've ever done, yeah," Deidara muttered.

* * *

"I see La Team Boehme is back early," Kisame laughed when he saw his two comrades. "Give up already?"

"Or maybe we just finished in half the time, yeah."

"Suna's a two day journey from here, you couldn't have gotten there— What's wrong with Sasori's back?"

"Yashamaru? Who's this?"

"Deidara, who's that?"

"Who do you think it is, yeah?" Deidara asked with a smirk, pulling his cloak off Sasori so Kisame could see their new prisoner.

"This is her? She's in pretty rough shape, huh?"

"Yeah. Of course, what could we have expected, given the circumstances,"

"And lying in the middle of the desert all day didn't do her much good either," Sasori said. "Do us a favor, Kisame, find some clothes for her. We're going to clean her up, and I don't think what she's wearing now is going to survive being removed."

Kisame picked at a scrap of fabric that had once been a sleeve. "Does she really need clothes?" he laughed.

"Yeah, to keep the bandages on, mostly," Sasori snorted.

"I'll see what we have... but she might have to settle for one of my t-shirts."

"If it's cloth-like and sort-of covering, I could care less."

* * *

The wound on her breast opened up again as Deidara undressed her. "Crap, are you still bleeding, un?" he muttered, wiping some of the blood off on her dress before tossing it in a corner and lowering her into the bath water.

"Where'd the new puppet go? Is Kankuro still here?"

"No, darling," Deidara sighed, "He's putting his puppet away. He'll be right back, un. Or he'd better be. I need help with this."

"Ok..." Reassured, the girl closed her eyes and sank into the water.

"Ah! Wait!" Deidara grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her head back out of the water. "None of that, now. We want you alive, un."

"Is she still breathing?" Sasori asked, slipping into the bathroom and sat down on the floor.

"Yeah... I haven't almost drowned her or anything! The only thing is that happened is that that cut opened up, un."

"It's not too deep, it'll close soon," Sasori shrugged, not wanting to know what Deidara had been doing. Not commenting further, he sent a chakra thread to lift one of her arms out of the water.

"This is just the littlest bit awkward," Deidara commented as he poured some hydrogen peroxide down the arm. It wasn't that the Akatsuki didn't have a stock of more potent medicines. It was just that they liked the old standbys.

Temari felt the lacerations on her arm begin to burn as though the sand was back, capturing her again. She tried to yank herself away, but the thread held her tight. "Kankuro, please, don't help him— please,"

"Shh, I know it stings," Deidara said soothingly, nervous that she would start splashing and get water on him. "But it's going to take the sand out of these scrapes before they get infected, un."

"Sorry... I just thought for a minute... Gaara,"

"Hush, Gaara's not here, remember."

Her hand bent towards Deidara as if trying to touch him. "Thank you, Yashamaru... I guess you really do care about me, after all,"

"Ugh," Sasori groaned. "Dei, get her to stop calling you that... she's making me depressed."

"Yeah, me too," Deidara sighed, wiping away the sand and blood on the first arm. "But I don't think she's going to let two strange men sponge bathe her, yeah. I mean, these cuts go pretty far up her legs..."

"How far?"

"I think she'd be more comfortable if dear old Yashamaru and Kankuro are the only ones in the room, un. Next arm."

Sasori sighed heavily as he lowered one arm of her arms and held up the next one. "That's cheerful."

Temari was confused. "What do you mean? Are there other people here?" She tried, unsuccessfully, to raise her head out of the tub to look around. "I can't see— Kankuro, is there someone else here?"

"No, no one. Just me and Yashamaru. Calm down. I wanted to call in some medics, that's all."

"But Yasha is a good medic," Temari said. "Don't worry, Kan-kun, he'll take care of me."

"As compared with Deidara, who couldn't put a band-aid on a paper cut," Sasori chuckled.

"Who's Deidara?"

"A friend of mine," he said gently.

Deidara winked at him. "Nice cover, un. Next."

Sasori lowered Temari's other arm and lifted one of her legs into the air. "Keep her head out of the water..."

"I know what I'm doing, _Kankuro_," he said. "She's right, I'm a good medic, un,"

Sasori rolled his eyes and leaned his head against the bathroom wall.

Their patient giggled weakly. "Yasha, it tickles..."

Deidara grinned lopsidedly as he ran a washcloth up the inside her leg. "Yeah..."

"Deidara," Sasori said sternly.

"Oh, lighten up. I'm a man."

"And she's a mess! Leave her alone, at least until she's conscious."

"You're certainly protective of her, Kankuro," Deidara said sarcastically.

"Just clean her up like you're supposed to."

Temari's head slipped beneath the water. Deidara sighed and pulled her up by a bedraggled pigtail.

"We're gonna have to rinse Sleeping Beauty here off again... next." Sasori raised Temari's other leg up so Deidara could clean it. "The water's getting sandy, un. Not to mention bloody... that cut still hasn't closed up."

"It's just the water keeping it from clotting. Hurry up, I'm falling asleep."

"Ok, I'm done with her legs, un."

"Do you want me to stand her up?" Sasori asked, shifting his position a little.

"Not yet... hand me that conditioner."

"Deidara, come on," Sasori groaned.

"But I want to play with her hair!"

Sasori didn't dignify this with a response except to pull Temari to her feet with his chakra threads. Deidara shot him a "you're no fun" look and reached for the shower nozzle.

The cold water rinsing off the extra sand and blood (Deidara was not in the mood to adjust the water temperature just for some delirious girl) brought Temari crashing to her senses.

"You're not Yashamaru," she said, puzzled both by who these strangers were and how she had mistaken one of them for her uncle.

Deidara smiled, turned off the water, and patted her shoulder. "No, darling, I'm not Yashamaru. I'm kidnaping you."

"Oh." Temari nodded and didn't resist as Sasori stepped her out of the bathtub.

"You've been a very good little prisoner," Deidara told her, grabbing a towel. He held it out, ready to rub her dry, but she held out a hand to grab it from him.

"I can dry myself off, thank you. I'm not a child."

Deidara's eyes swept over her body, and he smirked. "I can see that, un."

Temari ignored him and raised the towel to wrap it around herself, but her arms began to shake, and her grip weakened. The cloth dropped to the floor. She tried to bend down to pick it up again, but Sasori was keeping her legs from straight. She knew, too, that if the puppet master in the corner were to let her go, her legs would buckle immediately. Anyway, her arms felt too weak to actually lift the towel, even if she could reach it. Even clenching her fists in frustration sent pain shooting up her muscles.

Deidara laughed at her, making her eyes narrow, and picked up the towel for her. "You've been so good so far, why don't you keep it up?"

Temari's eyes flashed angrily, but she held still and allowed him to dry her off.

"Hmm... still bleeding, I see," he said, finally wrapping the moist towel around her waist. Temari grabbed at it with one hand to keep it in place and glanced down at her left breast, which was still oozing blood. Deidara wiped some of the blood off gently. "I don't know why it's doing that... it's not very deep... let's examine it, shall we?"

"Deidara," Sasori said once again. "Stop it."

"What's the matter, Sasori-danna?" he asked, grinning at his partner. "I'm not hurting her, un."

"She probably thinks you're trying to cope a feel... she doesn't know how effeminate you are."

Deidara glared at him. "You're the who's freaking out," he said angrily, grabbing her breast and squeezing.

"Let go of me!" Temari yelled, trying to jerk away unsuccessfully. The chakra threads keeping her standing prevented most movement. And this was so much like what had happened before...

Deidara clamped his other hand over her mouth. "No need to make a fuss, now... Well, Sasori-danna? She's pretty much helpless the way you have her all trussed up, un... are you going to hold her still for me?"

"Stop being such a jerk, Deidara," Sasori said, sounding almost bored. "You know I can't release her or she'll fall. I'm not condoning your trying to make yourself look macho or whatever."

Temari tried to pull her head back, but Deidara kept his hand against her mouth. Two of his fingers pinched her nose, forcing her to breath through her mouth. Something pressed at her lips... something that felt disgustingly like—,

Temari's eyes widened as Deidara held up his free hand. An mouth wagged its tongue at her from inside his palm. She shuddered as the one against her mouth kissed her.

"Deidara, what the hell are you doing?" Sasori asked.

"Oh, it's nothing she hasn't been through before, un," he grinned, grabbing her breast again, even though she tried to wiggle away. The chakra threads were keeping her in the same place, and even though she knew that without them she wouldn't even be able to stand up, it reminded her too strongly of the sand, trapped. She could feel the one mouth sucking at her skin, while the other continued to run its tongue along the inside of her mouth.

Her legs took a step backward on their own, and she glanced gratefully at the young man controlling them out of the corner of her eye.

"Ha! I knew it!" Deidara exclaimed, looking triumphant. "You are protecting her! What a loyal sand villager, to defend your comrades, yeah," he said sarcastically.

"I'm not defending her because she's from Sand," he protested quietly.

"Sure you aren't. Sasori, you really are too tied to that little hellhole of a village, no matter what you say. You're no longer a member of it... forget you ever were, un."

"Deidara, you girly fruit, stop teasing her and–,"

"She doesn't think I'm girly, do you, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning in and grinning in Temari's face. She tried to turn her head away, and he wrapped one hand around her waist and tried to rip off the towel she was still clutching to her body. "Or maybe I should just prove it to both of you, yeah."

"Get away from me!" Temari yelled, panicking as her grip weakened.

"What are you two doing?"

Deidara turned his head without releasing her. Temari tried to peer at the newcomer from behind his hair.

"Deidara's molesting the prisoner because he's insecure about his sexuality," Sasori explained.

"Why am I not surprised..." The man looked directly at her, and Temari held her head up, meeting his unusual red eyes determinedly. He spooked like a nervous animal, and she had to wonder if she was really that mangled.

"Let go of her, Deidara," the man ordered.

"Oh, come on, Itachi, don't take Sasori's side, un," he said, releasing Temari anyway. The man refused to look at her again, though.

"Don't be so immature," he lectured the blond man. "She's still bleeding, and for all you know she could be on the verge of starvation. Why don't you focus on keeping her alive rather than playing around with her boobs?"

"Oh, it's easy for Mr. Asexual to say that, un," Deidara said with a shrug.

The man picked up the pile of Temari's clothes that lay in the corner. "She can't wear these, can she?"

"She's got a towel, that's plenty, yeah."

"Kisame's supposed to be finding something for her," Sasori said, right before Kisame appeared in the doorway.

"Knock knock... everybody decent?"

Itachi turned to him. "Get her taken care of, please," he said, pointing back at the half-naked young woman in the center of the room. "Deidara's hardly responsible." And he walked out, taking Temari's clothes with him.

Kisame and the other two stared at his back as he left.

"What's with him?"

"I dunno..." Kisame shrugged, then turned to their captive. "Hey, there. Sorry about all that... Say, are you all right?"

Temari shuddered, struggling to keep her self-control after her flashback to what had happened with Shukaku. She couldn't lose it around these men.

"Hey," Kisame put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you... apparently Itachi would murder us if we did... you can't really tell, but that was him being angry. Here," he held out a pair of boxers and a men's training shirt. "It's all I could find, but at least you won't be so..." he gestured at her body, "y'know. Are you hungry?"

Her panic slowly subsiding, Temari managed to nod.

* * *

Itachi couldn't make it to his bedroom. He slumped down against the wall just outside his door, his legs too weak to keep walking.

It was her. He knew the moment he saw her, it was the little girl. Her eyes had changed, but they had not lost the spark that made him love her. When their eyes met, he had recognized them, and what's more, he knew why he loved her.

Because inside her eyes was written the same story he knew so well from his own life. Had it been there the first time he had seen her, had he been too young to recognize that she was just like him? Perhaps.

Why was she here? he wondered over and over. It seemed so impossible to him. He had known that he would never see her again. And now he didn't know what to do. He felt faint, overwhelmed. He squeezed the rag in his hand. It had once been a dress, purple, but it had been torn to shreds and covered with blood. And she herself was covered with scrapes... His hands began to shake, his fists clench. Who had dared to hurt her like that?

"Itachi?"

Itachi's mood broke, and his head snapped up to stare at Kisame.

"What's wrong with you, man?"

Itachi shook his head. "I don't know. Must be getting sick."

"Bullshit. Who is that girl?"

"No one I know... I just don't like to see Deidara torturing the poor thing," he said, hating the lies even as he made them up. Kisame laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Of course, Mr. Asexual would be more caring than the rest of us. Don't worry, I'll make sure nobody else bothers her."

Itachi nodded. "I'm sure she'll be grateful."

Kisame left, and Itachi tried to take deep breaths and pull his emotions back under control. This was serious, and he couldn't afford to screw up. He stood up, and, his knees still shaking, went to train. It was what he did when he was stressed or uncertain, which, in retrospect, he realized was the reason that he excelled so quickly at ninjutsu when he was young.

* * *

Temari leaned heavily on her elbows as Zetsu set a bowl of soup in front of her. She had been dressed, some of her deeper wounds had been bandaged, but the Akatsuki didn't wish to waste their medical supplies on a prisoner, and the shallower ones had been left. The wound on her breast had stopped bleeding, and, on inspection, proved to be unexpectedly shallow, so they had left it.

"Eat something," he said. Temari sniffed at the liquid in the bowl. Her stomach growled, but she was afraid of what might be in it.

"It's just chicken noddle... probably," Kisame said, seeing her hesitation. He picked up her spoon and took a sip of the broth before picking up her hand and wrapping it around the utensil. "See? No poison. We don't want you dead."

Wincing with the effort, Temari scooped up some of her soup and slowly brought it to her mouth. Her eyes were drooping; she could hardly focus on the task of feeding herself. The ordeal with Deidara had cost her energy, and while she knew that she needed to eat, she couldn't stop everything around her from getting fuzzy.

"She's about to pass out, un. Look at her hands shake."

"Where should we put her?"

"There's always your room, Sasori-danna... you wouldn't touch a fellow Sand nin,"

"Shut up, Deidara."

"Let's face it, none of us can be trusted with her. **Why don't we just draw straws?**" Zetsu asked.

"Itachi's right, though, we shouldn't really be fooling with her when she's this sick," Kisame said. "What about Tobi? He doesn't even know what sex is."

"Ha! And the minute we leave him alone, Zetsu comes by and asks him to switch rooms, un, and when we check on her in the morning, all we find are some bones."

"**You're awfully distrustful, for someone who was trying to take advantage of a dying girl**, but you're right, Tobi is easily manipulated."

"Itachi's the one making us do all this thinking," Sasori said, "Let's just chuck her in his room. It's not like Mr. Asexual is going to try anything with her."

"And it would be all the better for him if he did," Kisame said. "Sometimes his lack of libido worries me."

Temari was trying to follow the conversation, but she was too tired and too focused on her soup to understand most of it, and finally her body gave way and she fell asleep, spilling chicken noodle soup across the table.

Zetsu sighed. "More to clean," he muttered, picking her up. "All right, off to Itachi's room with you."


	8. Pity

Culture Shock

Chapter 8: Pity

A/N: In my head, this chapter is really good... I'm not sure if I'll be able to pull it off, though. It's real angsty... sorry.

Also, I'm trying to come up with a semi-decent summary for this story... so bear with me as the summary changes 9 million times.

* * *

Temari stared at the stone ceiling above her and contemplated her situation. The food and nap had left her feeling much more alert, although her muscles seemed to have stiffened during her nap, and her entire body ached. It was clear that she was in no condition to fend for herself.

So, what then, could she do except leave herself at the mercy of her kidnapers?

Who where they? She could picture them, or parts of them. Black fabric, red clouds, the puppet master with the languid eyes and immobile face, the blue skin and sharp-toothed smile of another, green leaves hiding a checkerboard face, and the one with Yashamaru's hair and voice, who had attacked her with those hands–,

But that couldn't be right. She must have hallucinated. No real person looked like the nightmares she recalled. No human could have those gills, that plant-thing, those mouths. They were impossible, feverish images from the stress of all that had happened to her.

Names, overheard voices, swam through her mind, but no face matched the names or voices that said them. _Sasori, Deidara, Kisame, Zetsu, Tobi... _The syllables blurred together and became a chant as she tried to sort them out. _Sasorideidarakisamezetsutobi sasorideidarakisamezetsutobiitachi... Itachi... Itachi..._

"Itachi," she whispered the name out loud, surprised by how quickly it brought an image to her mind. She was sure nobody had identified him for her, but she could see him as clearly as if they had been formally introduced. The pale face etched with care lines and startled expression that didn't match his calm voice, the black silk hair, the red eyes, but those were another of her hallucinations. Only one boy had those eyes. Still, she knew his name, she knew his face, she knew his voice. Here was one she could recognize. And that was a start.

Snatches of conversation and she remembered. He was the one who stopped the Yashamaru. The hands she may have imagined, but the groping _had_ happened, and Itachi was the one who stopped him. And it was his bed they had put her in.

Temari took a deep breath. She knew what that meant. She knew all too well what happened to women who fell into enemy hands. She knew that these men had not decided, out of the kindness of their hearts, to take her back to their place for a bath and a square meal. There were only two reasons to kidnap her, the other reason was information, and they hadn't questioned her at all.

But she needed to face facts. She was all but dead. They were taking care of her_. We don't want you dead._ In her current condition, she would be completely unable to fend them off. And even if she did manage to escape, she would either be captured again or die instantly. It was a trade off. She needed their care. They wanted her body.

"I can do this," she whispered, focusing her breathing. Part of her training, of every kunoichi's training, involved preparing for just this situation. It was all about your frame of mind, she had decided. She focused on relaxing, on not being frightened. What, really, was there to be frightened of, she asked herself. She was Temari of the Sand, daughter of the Forth Kazekage and destined to be the most powerful wind-chakra user in the history of Suna. Was she going to be intimidated by some boys and their man-penises? Ha! As if!

And anyway, these guys were honest rapists. They weren't claiming to have been watching her since she was little because they were madly in love with her, all while trying to force their tongues down her throat. They weren't demons, either. And they weren't her little brother.

Compared to a semi-incestuous demon stalker bent on keeping her as a toy, a group of moral-less, sex-starved men would be a piece of cake, she reasoned. As long as she could stop herself from flashing back to her experience with said semi-incestuous demon. As long as she could keep control. And once she was better, and able to escape... Temari smiled. They would regret messing with her.

A sound at the door startled her, but she was in her zone. She took another deep breath and focused on the ceiling. This would not break her. She was prepared. Let the bastard do his worst.

* * *

Itachi opened the door to his room tiredly. It was late at night, far later than he usually went to sleep, but that was how long it had taken him to beat his brain into submission. Tired from his workout, his body had finally forced his mind to stop thinking. A quick shower, and he could sleep, and in the morning he would find out where they had put the girl. He would be prepared, then, as prepared as he would ever be, to face her.

Even as tired and listless as he was, his heart fluttered a little. Supposing she didn't realize that they were the same, what if she didn't see what he could? But that was a worry for the morning. Itachi let the towel around his waist drop to the floor and was about to crawl into bed.

"Bring it," Temari whispered to herself as the blanket was pulled away from her shoulder. The man, Itachi, stepped backwards, letting the cover fall back over her.

"I beg your pardon," he said, turning back to his dresser to find some pajamas. _Kisame, you bastard. You sick, twisted,_

He hoped she couldn't see him sweating. But how could she, in the near-total darkness that was his bedroom at night. Well, not total darkness. The moonlight came in pretty clearly. Especially next to the bed, you could still see... Itachi felt himself turn red, and focused on finding the most covering pajamas he could. It was his own stupid fault, really. Where else did he expect them to put her? He was the one who insisted she be left alone, it should naturally be his duty to see that she was.

He wished he hadn't spent so much time training that day. He was too tired to deal with this.

Temari felt her heart-rate quickening. She hated suspense. She just wanted to get _this_ over with. "What are you waiting for?" she snapped irritably.

"Nothing," he said, coming back into her range of sight, wearing long pants and a T-shirt.

"Then hurry up," she muttered, fighting back the panic that she had under control just a minute ago. "I'm sick and I need to get my beauty sleep so I can be nice and sex-kittenish when your friends' turns come."

Itachi shook his head. "We aren't interested in..." Itachi sighed. A lie. And what was she supposed to think they wanted from her, then? "You do not need to worry about that from us."

Temari glared at him. "You expect me to believe that?"

"I apologize for my... companion's behavior earlier. Deidara is sometimes compulsive, but harmless. We will not touch you."

Temari shivered. Why was she here, then? What did they want from her? Why was this one, Itachi, so damn ..._gentle_? "I don't understand..."

Itachi bit down on his tongue. She looked so lost. Criminals did not behave the way that the Akatsuki did. Criminals did not behave like him. "Poor thing. Don't be afraid," he whispered, reaching, unconsciously for her face, to touch her cheek. "I will take care of you."

Temari jerked her head backwards. "I don't need your pity," she said back angrily. They hadn't caught her at her best, true, but she was competent! She could handle these men on her own, without his protection. She didn't need to be sheltered. She could take care of herself. She didn't need to depend on an arbitrary benefactor. She didn't need anyone. Just herself.

Itachi saw it, in her eyes. Saw her draw away. He knew, because she was just like him. Exactly like him, why hadn't he seen it all those years ago? He dropped his head and walked to the other side of the bed. She made no move to turn over, to continue watching him, even when he crawled into bed next to her.

"How do you know?" he asked quietly, wrapping an arm around her ribs, hugging her. "Has anyone ever pitied you before?"

Temari wanted to roll her eyes at the question, but inside her head she already heard the answer, a resounding, echoing _No_. Nobody had ever felt sorry for her before. She pretended it was because they knew she was too proud for sympathy, but...

She wanted to answer him, to answer Itachi. _You're right, nobody's ever pitied me before, just like nobody has ever offered to protect me, or wrapped their arm around me and held me, like this, like all that matters to them is me. Why? Why you?_ but the words caught her throat and came out as a sob. She curled around the arm, which drew her closer to Itachi, pressing her against his stomach, and she cried. Cried and cried, like she would never stop. Itachi didn't say anything, just kept his arm around her, letting her know, he hoped, that she didn't need to be afraid or ashamed. That he would hold her as long as she needed him, whenever she needed him, forever.


	9. Yashamaru and Deidara

Culture Shock

Chapter 9: Yashamaru and Deidara

**Edit of the following author's note, which was written several weeks before this one: **Well, talk about being forced to eat your own words. After the last chapter posted, I sat down and wrote this nice little explanation about the way I view(ed) Itachi... and then Chapter 368 came out, and basically told me to drop ItaTem and never look at it again. Well, I'm not going to stand for that from some paltry little manga-ka trying to develop his own characters. I'll tell Kishimoto-sensei what's canon, thank you very much.

Anyway, Itachi's going to stick with MY _OLD_ version of him, not this new Itachi. Yes, there will be _MAD_ OOC. All I ask is that you not leave spoilers for the current manga chapters in the reviews while trying to correct this OOC. We wouldn't want to ruin the surprise for other readers, now, would we?

The Old A/N: Because I frequently get accused of OOC-ness, I thought I'd talk a little bit about Kallie!Itachi. I enjoy writing for Little!Itachi; you know, Sasuke's loving older brother who's a bit of a loner and so fed up with his clan that he's just about to snap. When I write for Adult!Itachi, I write on the premise that Little!Itachi is still there, underneath all the evil villain-ness. (Those following the manga will recall Kisame and Itachi having a discussion in the rain that supports this.) If you look only at Itachi's actions in my fics (not what he's thinking), you'll notice that he is trying to keep up a facade of evil villainy. Little!Itachi takes over and he fails, and that is a little OOC, but more in the context that he's expressing emotion than in him doing something completely unlike him. It's a little like NaruHina fics where Hinata manages to talk to Naruto. Yeah, she never would, but there wouldn't be much of a story if we stuck to cannon!Hinata's social disorders. Itachi's motivations should also become more clear as the story progresses.

As for Temari's OOCness, this is intentional and (hopefully) I will get around to explaining it and getting rid of it.

The other Akatsuki don't get to be in character, because I'm a crappy writer. I try. I fail. Flame all you want. Just don't expect me to be happy about it.

(Another Ironic Sidenote: In the original plan for this story, Minato was going to be the Akatsuki Leader. Pein sure stomped on that one. Canon hates me.)

* * *

The next morning Temari's muscles hurt, she couldn't move, and her eyes were gummed together. She couldn't believe she had spent the night _crying_. She hadn't cried since... well, since the incident with the Naras. And here she was, showing the biggest weakness she could think of, a weakness she didn't even consider herself _having_, to some strange, asexual man who was kidnaping her for reasons unknown.

She was lying with her head on her arm, which was lucky, because the effort of moving her fingers the five inches to her eyes to wipe the gunk off felt like somebody was ripping off her skin slowly and poking red hot needles into her exposed nerves.

"I'm sorry about last night. I had a long day, and I guess-," she croaked, not sure why she was apologizing. It only made her look weaker. But maybe it would be best that they underestimate her; maybe she could–,

She turned her head, and realized that she was alone in the room. Itachi had left. She rolled her head back to the grove in the pillow, where the pain in her muscles was dulled to a nagging ache. Light was coming through the window, but she didn't know what time it was. Probably later than she would have normally slept. She hated to accept it, but she had to; she was in very bad shape.

* * *

The guys were amused, to say the least, by the idea of Itachi spending the night with a female. This made breakfast the same kind of experience that had helped put the Uchiha clan in their graves. But Itachi couldn't imagine defeating the entire Akatsuki single-handedly any more than he could imagine his life without them, so he merely drank his tea and ignored the heckling.

"So, Itachi-kun... how'dya like having a sexuality?" Zetsu asked him.

"I don't understand the question, and I won't respond to it."

"**He can be a little too delicate sometimes,"** Dark Zetsu said of his lighter half. **"What he means is 'how was your first fuck?'"**

Itachi sighed heavily and poured some sugar into his tea. "I'll let you know when it happens. Don't both of you hold your breath, now."

"Man, are you serious? I know we call you asexual, but this is too much."

"What's too much?" Sasori clicked his way into the room. Sasori did need food like a normal, fleshy human, but not much, and he tended to forgo breakfast. Itachi knew immediately why he was up and about, and it made him wonder why his lack of a love life was such a big point of interest to the entire organization.

"**Itachi didn't touch the girl last night."**

Sasori looked Itachi over, curious. Itachi raised his eyes to stare back at him, but Sasori's gaze remained uncompetitive. That was the problem with Sasori, he was damn hard to goad. "Hmm... you must be very serious about not reviving that clan of yours, huh? Very serious... I thought for sure this would break you."

"You're trying to break me?" Itachi asked, cold curiosity in his voice. Another person would have been intimidated. Sasori just shrugged.

"Not really, but I was interested in seeing you after a night of sexual turmoil. Some other time, I guess."

"What? No sexual turmoil?" Kisame came in and poured himself some coffee. Itachi had never grown accustomed to the taste, although Kisame kept trying to get him hooked on it. Of course, one pot of Kisame's ideal-strength brew could kill an entire army. "Good to hear it. Just jump right in, right, Itachi-kun?"

"If that's an innuendo, I don't want to know about it," Itachi said quietly, sipping his tea again as Kisame slung an arm over his shoulder.

"What's the deal? We aren't worrying about your virgin ears anymore, are we?"

"Actually," Zetsu said, "Yeah, we are."

Kisame looked over at his two-in-one comrade. "He didn't?"

"**Didn't even think about it."**

Kisame sighed and patted Itachi on the cheek. "Well, I guess that's what we love about you, Itachi. Robots are perfectly welcome here."

"Kisame, can I talk to you alone?"

"You're gay, aren't you?" Zetsu said, as though he had just solved the riddle. "That must be it. **Yeah, did you see the **_**size**_** of that girl's breasts?"**

Itachi closed his eyes and pretended that it was his father talking, and remembered the satisfying squish his organs had made as Itachi stabbed him again, and again, and again, and—,

"Itachi?" Kisame's voice brought him back to the present. "Come on, if you're going to confess your love to me, let's at least do it in the hallway."

Kisame closed the kitchen door behind them as he led Itachi out into the empty hallway. Zetsu and Sasori immediately leaned up against it to hear better.

"So... did you... uh...?" Kisame winked at him. Itachi noted, dimly, that Kisame could say basically anything to him without annoying him, and also that he didn't have to finish, or even start, a sentence for Itachi to figure it out. It was what came of working with a partner for so long, he supposed.

"No, I did not," Itachi said coldly.

"You thought about it, though, right?"

Itachi shook his head.

"Not even a little? What if she'd been into it?"

"And not kidnaped and unconscious ?" Itachi asked. "I hardly think that's likely."

"Do you have no imagination at all?"

Itachi said nothing. Kisame had no idea how vivid his imagination could be at times. It just never turned to sex as a subject. And certainly not with her, because how could sex compare with the warm body that had cried itself to sleep in his arms the night before? Oh, he imagined her, seeing her smile, or hearing her laugh, or having her say his name. But sex? How vulgar.

"Kisame... why did you put her in my room?"

"Where else could we put her?" Kisame shrugged. "Look, it wasn't to force you into anything, we just... we worry about you, man. It wouldn't be so horrible if you did decide to have a little fun with her, and if you didn't, then she would be safe with you."

"But why didn't you tell me?"

"Hey, don't angry, we couldn't even find you! When you disappear like that, you might as well be chillin' with the Mizukage."

Itachi blinked at him. "I wasn't angry, just,"

"Oh, stop acting so stoic. You're angry. What's up?"

"I don't like finding strange women in my bed when I want to sleep."

Kisame patted his shoulder. That was Itachi's story, and it was pretty clear that he was sticking to it. "Fine. We'll move her."

"No," Itachi shook his head. He shook Kisame's hand off, too, so that his partner wouldn't feel how his heart rate had jumped at the suggestion. "I have no problem with her. I just didn't appreciate the surprise."

He threw open the door, ignoring the little growl of pain as the doorknob hit Zetsu's ear.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Sunshine."

Temari couldn't turn her head, so she moaned a greeting instead.

"Not feeling much better, huh?" Hands grabbed her and flipped her onto her back.

"Yashamaru?" she mumbled as he propped her head up with a pillow.

"You're not hallucinating anymore, so don't call me that, dearheart," he said, grinning at her. "Name's Deidara. Don't suppose you'll tell me yours?"

Temari glared at him and pinched her mouth shut.

Deidara smiled and tilted her chin upward. "Well, we'll find out sooner or later, un."

"What do you want?" Temari snapped, gritting her teeth.

"Wait here for a second," he said, ducking back out the door.

"Yeah, like I have a choice," she muttered.

"What was that, darling?"

"Fuck. You."

Deidara smiled as he reappeared with a tray in his hands. "Sure you want to play that card? Or have you forgotten our little tryst from yesterday?" He shook his head. "Guess I was the only one hoping for commitment, un."

"_Someone_ ought to commit you," Temari muttered under her breath as he sat down next to her with his tray.

"Now, now. Is that any way to treat the man who brought you lunch?" Deidara asked, grabbing a half-loaf of bread and breaking off a piece, which he then dipped into a bowl of soup. "Open wide."

Temari raised an eyebrow at it. The muscles around her eyebrow protested this mistreatment.

"It was this or the cream of wheat, un. And trust me, cream of wheat is pretty nasty. Come on, don't make me pry open your jaws, now."

Temari felt her eye twitching. It hurt just as much as any other movement, and reminded her that she needed to be more concerned with her health than her pride. "Fine."

She wanted to ask him about Itachi, because the previous night was getting fuzzy in her memory, and she thought she may have made the whole thing up, based on the one person she could recognize. It wasn't like she would really start crying just because some _guy_ hugged her... right?

"You're so adorable," Deidara told her, wiping some soup off her chin. Temari glared at him, pretending that she could focus her anger and make his head explode. "You're just like a little kid who refuses to go to bed no matter how tired he is."

"Don't condescend me," Temari growled. Deidara pinched her cheek and cooed.

* * *

"Zetsu-sempai!" Tobi whined in his endearing little voice. "I can't find Deidara-sempai! He's not in his room and he's not here with you guys."

Itachi and Sasori rolled their eyes and went back to staring sullenly at their tea.

"He's taking care of a girl in Itachi's room," Zetsu said patiently, ruffling Tobi's hair carefully, so he didn't dislodge the mask. Tobi got very upset when people messed with his mask.

Tobi squeaked. "Why's there a girl in Itachi-sempai's room?" He turned his head towards Itachi and said severely, "This is a boys-only club! You'll get cooties." He squeaked again and turned to Zetsu for reassurance. "What if Deidara-sempai gets cooties?"

Sasori sighed and tapped his finger impatiently on the table. "She's a very important prisoner. We'll just have to risk the cootie outbreak, Tobi."

Tobi sniffled. "Nobody told me that we were taking a prisoner," he told them in a hurt tone. "What's she for?"

"We'll tell you later, Tobi," Kisame said without missing a beat. "Right now, it's an Akatsuki-only secret."

"Oh," Tobi shuffled out of the room. "Well, that's no fun."

"Deidara is taking care of her?" Itachi asked after a moment, careful to control his expression as the answer to Tobi's question set in. "Is that really safe?"

Kisame smiled benignly and started to respond with something no-doubt soothing, but Zetsu got in the first word.

"_**Some**_** of us have managed to develop as sexual beings, you know."**

Itachi clenched a fist around his tea mug.

* * *

"There, food's gone," Temari growled, staring determinedly at the ceiling. "Thanks. Now get out."

"Oh, not yet, sweetheart," Deidara grinned and started to prop her up again. "I'm not done, un."

Temari felt her pupils contract. "Yes, you are," she snapped. "Leave."

"Don't be so selfish, my little mystery girl. I should get some payment for bothering to bring you food, yeah. Itachi didn't even think of it, and your valiant fellow Sasori-danna said he didn't have the patience to feed our poor little invalid."

Temari tried to struggle a little, but only lost her balance and flopped forward onto her own lap when Deidara released her. He crawled around behind her and settled down on the cushion that had propped up her head, wrapping his legs around her waist and pulling her back up into a sitting position.

Temari barely bit back a groan. This movement hurt like twitching her eye times a million. "When you're done, I suppose I'm going to be sore _everywhere_," she said bitterly. She didn't need to go to her Zone for this one, she was far too preoccupied with her purely physical state.

"I'll be gentle, un."

"You're such a fucking gentleman," she snapped back. Something tugged at the back of her head.

"Oh, be nice. I've been dying to play with your hair since we first found you, you know, and it's not like it couldn't use a little attention. I might have to cut these hair things off... do you mind terribly, un?"

"Wha–," Temari turned her head to the side, resulting in the sharp, jarring pain of having her hair pulled. "You want to play with my hair?"

"Yeah. It'll be so pretty once we've got all the sand and blood out of it. I brought my favorite conditioner and everything."

Temari slumped back into the position Deidara had propped her into, unable to believe it. "My hair isn't pretty," she said simply, noticing the sensation as he rubbed something (conditioner?) into her matted scalp.

"But it will be, un. It's a nice texture."

Temari focused on calming her body, which was slowing ceasing to ache now that she wasn't moving. Clearly this man, Deidara, was crazy. "If you say so."

"I do." Hands began to run through her hair, picking out the worst of the rats-nests. Temari started to relax. What could she do? The conditioner smelled good. Relaxing. Chamomile, maybe.

"So," Deidara said, running what might have been a comb cautiously through the tangle still left over. "Who's Yashamaru?"

Temari sighed. "Definitely not you." She had been thinking about it, as she was having her hair done.

"Oh? I thought he resembled me, un."

"In some ways," Temari sighed.

"Oh? Who is he? Come now, un, I'm curious."

"My uncle, if you must know. It isn't that you look like him." Temari thought this over. "Well, you do look a little like him, and you have the same... what's the word? Mannerisms. But I suppose you're very different."

"Yashamaru wouldn't be the type to kidnap you, un?"

"No... he wouldn't be the type to feed me if I was dying, either, though," Temari whispered to herself. She didn't like to think about her uncle. In fact, she hadn't thought of him at all since the Konoha Misadventure, when Gaara had finally started to let go of him. She wondered why she had looked for him when she was dying. "I must have thought that I was going to hell."

"Oh, how sad, un," Deidara said, stroking her cheek sympathetically once, then returning to his hairdressing. "Bad home life?"

Temari grunted noncommitally.

"Wouldn't it be funny if we treated you better than your village, but you just kept on being a bitch to us?"

"So that's your game," Temari muttered. "Of course."

"Our game? No game. I would never pass up the opportunity to style such beautiful hair."

"Look, I was delirious when you found me," Temari said angrily. "And I know that a Suna native in the middle of the desert with no water or supplies looks like an idiot, but trust me, I am very intelligent. You found me in very unusual circumstances, is all."

"We haven't mistreated you, have we? Oh, unless you're counting that little, erm, incident in the bathroom..."

"Are you apologizing?" Temari asked sarcastically.

"I see nothing to apologize for. I was paying you a compliment, un. Some women would be flattered."

"Clearly the only women you see are in cheap porno flicks," Temari said. "I've got news for you, the real world, very different."

Deidara laughed quietly and kept the brush running through her hair steadily. "Touche. At least you aren't suggesting that the only woman I know is myself, like Sasori-danna does. I like you, mystery girl, un."

"Yeah, I bet," Temari muttered darkly.

"I wish you weren't so suspicious, un. I'm trying to be nice."

"Uh-huh. I already told you, I see through this stupid game, so stop fucking toying with me."

"And I already told you, dearest, I'm not toying with you. I just want to mess with your hair a little, and I promise it'll be pretty when I'm done."

Temari blinked furiously. This was pure evil of him. Pure evil. "Just stop. I'm not pretty, ok? My hair is _not_ pretty. You can fiddle with it all you want, but it's still going to be ugly."

"That's not true, darling. Granted, it needs a little TLC, but it's–,"

"What, got a lot of character?" Temari snarled. "Look, you're really pissing me off, here." She started to turn around, but Deidara grabbed her hair and yanked her back into place.

"Sit still, or of course it's going to come out weird, un."

Temari gasped. "Ow! You know, you're doing a lousy job at this game."

"You keep talking about this game I'm playing, un. Why don't you tell me what it is?"

"Pretending to be my best friend, doing my hair, feeding me, hugging me..." she thought about the night before. So that's what he had been up to. She could feel herself turning red. She had been so stupid. "So that I'll start to trust you and tell you anything you want to know."

"Like your name?" Deidara asked wryly. "We don't need any information from you, darling. I just happen to be a nice guy with an appreciation for beauty, un."

"And I keep telling you, and telling you, and telling you," Temari tried to yell, but instead whispered hoarsely, "I know that you're lying, because I know my hair is ugly."

"Why don't you leave your low self-esteem until I'm done, ok?" Deidara said, "Because it's getting really obnoxious of you, un. I don't think your hair is ugly, that should be enough for you. And anyway, I'm keeping you company, right? That's more than Yashamaru-dearest would do for you, so shut up and let me comb."

Temari gritted her teeth and vowed to be quiet until he left. She might have, but at that moment the four other men from the night before burst in. Temari blinked. The blue skin, the plants, the puppetmaster with the eerie smile... so she hadn't been hallucinating.

Itachi was there, too. Temari watched him more warily than the others. She didn't think she could bear the shame if he had told the others what the stupid little prisoner had done the night before, just because someone dropped a few cheesy lines. But nobody seemed to be laughing at her, and he did not say anything. He met her gaze briefly, seriously. She thought he may have acknowledged her, but it only was a short flicker of emotion. He looked over to Deidara before she could gather anything else from his expression.

"What are you doing in my room?"

"So cruel, Itachi," Deidara said glibly. "Here I am, the only one of you willing to care for this poor girl, using my precious time to make sure that she's happy, but all you care about is your own agenda. We should move her to my room." Temari jerked her head to the side, trying to look at him, but he guided it back gently. "Careful, dear, I'm working on this rats' nest, I wouldn't want to hurt you. I'm the only one who cares about her, un."

"Cares about her?" Itachi snarled, striding over to his bed and sitting next to the two of them. "Don't be so stupid."

"I'm doing her hair, un."

"That doesn't constitute caring," Itachi said. Deidara laughed.

"Oh, Itachi-san, did you think I was doing something inappropriate?" he asked mockingly. "I wouldn't hurt my little niece any more than you would kill your par– oh, my bad, un."

The blue one put his arm on Itachi's shoulder as though holding him back, even though Itachi had not started towards Deidara.

"Niece, huh, Deidara?" the puppetmaster asked. "Are we adopting her?"

Deidara kissed Temari's cheek. She turned to look at him, but only found his hand, that gaping mouth embedded inside it. So she hadn't made any of it up. She shuddered and scooted away from it as far as Deidara's grip would let her.

"I think she's adopted us, un," he said.

"I did _not_!" Temari yelled, her voice cracking painfully. Her vocal cords were as sore as the rest of her. "Don't put words in my mouth," she said, trying to address Deidara.

Deidara pulled the comb through another tough spot, ignoring her. "Oh, we haven't introduced ourselves yet, have we, un? This is Sasori, Kisame, Zetsu, and Itachi," he said very quickly, pointing each one out rapidly.

"DEIDARA!" Zetsu yelled. Sasori slapped a hand against his forehead. It made an unusual hollow sound. "**Don't tell her our names, you horse's ass!"**

"What, un? It's polite."

"She's not a kitten, she's a prisoner!" Zetsu said. "It's fine to feed her, but you can't give information about us out!"

"They're just names," Deidara said.

"Deidara, sometimes..." Sasori muttered.

"She would have found them out anyway, she's going to be here for a while, un. What difference does it make? You don't really think that she's going to escape from us, do you?"

"Leave him," Kisame said. "He's right, she would have pieced them together fast enough, it's not going to help her out any. They already know Itachi, Sasori, and I are here and nobody knows Zetsu by name."

"If you guys are quite done deciding if I'm allowed to know your names or not," Temari muttered, sick of being treated as if she was not in the room, "could you clear out? You're upsetting my stylist, un."

Kisame laughed and pulled Itachi's desk chair up to the bed, sitting on it backwards and straddling the headrest. He had a very comforting manner, friendly and straightforward, Temari thought, then shook her head to erase the thought. That was what they wanted her to think.

Deidara's comb tore at her hair. "Sit still, un."

"We can't leave just yet," Kisame explained. Temari noticed that these men were developing a nasty habit of hanging out around her. "We haven't gotten to the point."

"The point wasn't to come in here and make sure I wasn't taking any liberties?" Deidara asked as Zetsu leaned against a wall and Sasori sat down on the desk, narrowly avoiding knocking over a plate with half a tuna sandwich on it.

"No, the point was to have a little question and answer session about our niece," Sasori said. "It turns out Itachi doesn't know who she is or why she's here."

Temari suddenly felt cold. Why _was_ she here? None of this made sense to her. Nothing had made sense to her since... how long had it been? It felt like forever... Two days ago? Three days ago? She turned, slightly, to Itachi, careful not to disrupt Deidara's work. "Well, that makes two of us who don't know what's going on."

Itachi was barely following the conversation, instead waiting anxiously to find out what significance _she_ could possibly have to the Akatsuki. But when she spoke, directly to him, he listened, of course. How very true it was... more true than she realized.

He was still dwelling on the idea of the two of them, lost, confused, and, above all things, _together_, when Kisame began talking.

"Well, let's see if we can enlighten each other, then, starting with who you are and why you're here."


	10. Hair

Culture Shock

Chapter 10: Hair

A/N: Trying to make Itachi less ga-ga. Yeah, right.

Um, if I misspell any terms, could you let me know? I fail.

Blah blah exposition blah, I'm afraid. I know you've probably figured most of this out already, but Temari and Itachi have not. Hopefully next chapter won't take as long to write.

– –

"Well, let's see if we can enlighten each other, then, starting with who you are and why you're here."

"Please," Temari said.

"Before we begin, if you're not the one we're looking for, if you'd let us know, that'd be great," Kisame said.

"Great," Temari said. "You've got the wrong girl. Could you drop me off at the nearest village and we'll act like this never happened?"

"That's very funny," Kisame said. "You know, it's more believable if you wait for me to tell you who we're looking for, first. How exactly did you manage to end up bleeding to death in the middle of the desert?"

"My teammates left me," Temari said. "I was dying, I would have slowed them down."

Kisame looked over at Sasori, who shook his head. "I know Suna's not famous for strong friendships," the puppet master said, "but I don't think we've sunk to quite that level yet. Be honest, now. Your boyfriend got a little abusive on you, didn't he?" Sasori smiled languidly at Temari's disgusted glare. "He banged you up a bit, you escaped and ran for the desert. I'm right, aren't I?"

Temari shuddered. The boyfriend thing was way off, but he had still hit too close for comfort with that one. "...that's ridiculous," she muttered. Deidara left off combing to pat her shoulder.

"Oh, little mystery girl, you're shivering, un," he said. "Don't worry, Uncle Dei will take care of the monster that did this."

"There's no monster! I told you what happened." Temari snapped, only to have Deidara hush her gently. She tried to relax. They were just joking... or something. They couldn't know what had happened to her.

"I told you it was her," Sasori said, a hint of triumph in his voice and smirk.

"So it seems," Zetsu said. "Very well. Itachi, guys, Mystery Girl. As you know, when we capture the bijuu, we need to do so in order of increasing power, and it follows that–,"

"Increasing power?" Deidara asked. "I didn't know that, un."

"If you spent less time inhaling hair spray and more on the important things-," Sasori started. Zetsu interrupted them.

"It's simple. In the process of sealing a demon, we have to open the container that we're keeping them in. If the demon inside is more powerful than the one we're putting in, then it will be able to overpower the incoming chakra and escape... and probably kill us in the process. If the demons inside are weaker than the one being sealed, they will not be able to resist the chakra flowing into the vessel, and remain trapped inside. So, we need to start with the one-tail and work our way up to the fox."

Temari started to shake again. They absolutely couldn't be talking about that _thing_. Or perhaps it was coincidence that they been looking for this girl at the same time that... that Gaara had lost control. Gaara was probably the "girl" they were looking for; Suna had been sure to spread false rumors about the identity of their jinchuriki, surely one or two of those gave a fake gender. And it was not unlikely at all that someone would want his power.

Deidara rubbed her shoulders gently, trying not to put pressure on her wounds. He had clearly noticed her reaction. No wonder he had wanted to 'comb her hair'; it was much easier to observe her at this proximity.

"I follow, un," Deidara told the plant-man.

"Right. It will probably take a while to collect all nine beasts, in order, so for the first few we should stay under the radar as much as possible. Once word gets around that an organization is after them, the more powerful ones will start to take precautions, making our job that much more difficult. For the one-tail, it will be easiest to lure him to us. Thus the girl."

Temari cleared her throat to get their attention. "You've got the wrong girl," she said. "I'm not the jinchuriki."

"Of course you're not," Sasori said. "The demon's host is male. And I think all of us here can attest that you are not." He smirked at Kisame, who winked back.

Somehow this penetrated Itachi's brain, which was only half-concerned with the proceedings. He started to feel nauseous. "Then why _is_ she here?" he asked.

"It's a bit difficult to explain to Mr. Asexual," Zetsu said. Itachi rapped his fingers against the bedspread irately.

The men's eyes turned to Kisame, who grinned awkwardly. "Well, Itachi, when a demon loves a human female (or a human male for that matter) very much, it sometimes comes to the attention of the demon's village that it would be in everybody's best interest to give this person to him so that he can..."

"We'll tell you when you're older," Zetsu interrupted with a grin.

"And when we're not in mixed company, un," Deidara said, indicating Temari.

"**She knows what we're talking about better than we do,**" Zetsu said in a deeper, more sinister voice. "**Look at how pale she is.**"

Itachi's hand reached out to touch her automatically; he barely controlled himself in time to wrap his hand around her wrist as though checking her pulse. "Her heart's racing," he said smoothly. The others ignored him; the girl was clearly panicking, there was no need to check her pulse. Itachi felt distinctly ill by now, lightheaded, queasy. His mind was flashing to what she must have gone through, turned over to some... some... thing by her village, forced to give into its wishes. Kisame was so very, very wrong about his imagination. It was too vivid for its own good.

"Sorry about bringing back bad memories, darling," Sasori said to her, "But relax, you're among friends now. It will never bother you again."

In the back of Temari's mind, she knew that she should concentrate on controlling her emotions, keeping her physical reaction suppressed. But the things they were saying made too much sense, fit too well. _Has anyone every told you how beautiful you are? Even when you were young..._

_Mama likes me best. She told Gaara so last night._

_Don't hug Gaara anymore, Princess. I wouldn't want him to hurt you._

_Get away from me, Temari!_

How could these men know about this? She hadn't even known! And surely, surely the villagers hadn't known. She had been taking care of Gaara since she was too young to reach the counter top. Her father would not have allowed that if she was in danger. And they made it sound as though she was some kind of slave, not just a recent victim of a demon that had spent too long stuck in Gaara's brain. They weren't talking about her. It wasn't her. They had the wrong demon; they weren't talking about Shukaku.

"You've got the wrong girl," she said again. "There's no one like that in Suna. We don't sacrifice our citizens to anyone."

"But you still leave them in the middle of the desert when they're wounded?" Kisame asked, grinning.

Zetsu chuckled. "**She is still young. Maybe they haven't told her yet,**" he said. "But I think she would know. **Well, that depends... the demon may not be interested in her until she's older.** Mystery Girl, do you know your village's jinchuriki?"

It took Temari a moment before she realized that the argument between the two personalities had stopped, and they were asking her a question.

"**She mentioned him earlier, she knows him. He's gotten a little friendlier, lately, hasn't he, girl?"**

Temari kept her face blank.

"I'm talking to you," Zetsu said.

"I told you, this is her," Sasori said. "He's the only one who could create those marks on her arms, and he's bound to be pursuing her. So, Mystery Girl, you just relax, keep lying to us, and let us take care of your little demon friend."

Temari stuck out her tongue at him.

"Great, she really is your niece, Deidara. Just as mature as her uncle," Sasori muttered, standing up. "Let's go and leave the happy family."

"So, to recap, mostly for Itachi's benefit," Kisame said, following Sasori towards the door, "we're luring the ichibi here with his favorite toy, who will be staying in your room until further notice."

"I'm not a toy!" Temari protested.

"Yeah, she's not a toy, un," Deidara said. "She's our Mystery Girl. Now get out, I can't concentrate on my job with you all upsetting her."

– –

"So, you want to watch a movie or something?" Kisame asked when they were out of Itachi's room. Itachi blinked at him wanly. "Yo, Itachi, wake up."

"Yeah, a movie would be good," Itachi managed to mumble when a calloused blue hand waved in front of his face. Never mind that he had seen every movie owned by the Akatsuki several times over and hated all of them. He was grateful for the chance to sit and vegetate and hate himself for wasting his time hanging out with Kisame, watching movies, training, and daydreaming, while _she_ was trapped in hell. How dare he be content to sit back and fantasize about her without ever trying to find her, rescue her. He was weak, cowardly, and she had paid for it.

"I-ta-chi," Kisame's voice broke through the fog. "Are you going to stand there all day or what?"

– –

As Deidara fooled with her hair, Temari sat in a state of shock similar to Itachi's, contemplating her situation.

It was, she realized, highly probable that she _was_ the one they were searching for, after all. She knew, better than most, how frightened Suna was of Shukaku's powers, and also that her life meant relatively little to them. Neither she nor her brothers were popular. If the village thought she would appease Shukaku, they would have no qualms about using her. Just because nothing had happened to her yet did not mean that they had not planned to use her later.

And, well... Temari winced as a comb stroked across the raw, sand-burned skin on her neck... something _had_ happened.

"Oops, sorry, Mystery Girl, un."

"Deidara, how did you find out about this unfortunate demon-girl you're after?"

"Oh, we have our ways. Organizations like ours don't get far without contacts, un. Sasori-danna has a few reliable agents among the jounin of your home village."

Temari's head turned almost 180 degrees. "What?! There's a traitor in–,"

Deidara clamped a hand over her mouth and turned her back to her original position. "Calm down, now. You should be grateful. Without his information, you'd either be dying in the middle of nowhere or back in bed with that jinchuriki, un. Any village that would give a pretty thing like you to some passing demon doesn't deserve loyal ninjas, anyway, un."

Temari sighed, exasperated. "Oh, you're talking your nonsense again," she muttered. There was no point in trying to get any more information out of him if he was going to keep going on about her beauty. She knew what she wanted to. Clearly, the jounin had known about Shukaku's interest in her. Whether or not her father had known...

_Don't hug Gaara anymore, Princess. I wouldn't want him to hurt you._

Whether or not he had intended to use her, she couldn't (wouldn't) say.

But Baki knew. He had known, and he had come to help her at the first sign of danger, even though it was against the jounins' plans, even though it would have been best for the village, even though she had never given him a reason to be fond of her, even though it was dangerous. He and Kankuro had put themselves in danger for her...

Her heart began pounding violently. She couldn't bear to think of Kankuro and Gaara right now, when she was helpless, unable to reach them. If something happened to either of them because of her, she would never forgive herself. She had run and left Kankuro in danger and Gaara out of control. And then there was Baki, complicating things further, helping her although he didn't owe her anything, although she didn't really deserve it...

"Uncle Dei," she sighed, "the world is a very complicated place."

Fingers ran through her hair, and Temari realized just how comforting the foreign sensation was. "That it is, un. That's what makes it beautiful."

"Well, if that's your definition of beauty, maybe I really am pretty," she said with a smile (not as painful as earlier... her muscles had loosened slightly). "I feel too complicated sometimes."

Deidara shifted underneath her. "You're a very beautiful kind of complicated, Mystery Girl. I can tell that already, un." He slid out from under her, letting her flop back onto a pile of pillows that were not comfortable enough to break her fall. She let out a noise halfway between a groan and a yelp.

"Oh, sorry, un."

"You'd better be," she growled as he propped her into an almost-sitting position against the not-soft-enough pillows.

"Or you'll what?" he taunted, surveying the room around them. "Do you think Itachi-kun will mind if I take his mirror off the wall?"

Temari shrugged. Itachi... another person she'd rather not think about right now.

"Oh, who cares, un?" Deidara decided, lifting the simple mirror from its place next to the dresser. "I want you to see this, stop you from babbling about how ugly you are."

"I didn't say _I_ was ugly, I said my hair is," Temari protested.

"The same thing, un," Deidara said, making Temari smile a little. With hair as well-kept as his, she had no doubt that he believed this. "Here, what do you think?"

Temari blinked at the image in the mirror Deidara was holding before her. She suddenly realized why she hurt so much. Her skin was an angry red, just beginning to peel off in unsightly white patches. That is, where it wasn't covered with scabs, like her arms and shoulders. The black muscle shirt they had dug up for her was far too big and hung off her shoulders like a rag, revealing cuts further down her chest. Temari gained a new appreciation for Deidara's level of insanity, that he could call her a "pretty thing" in this state.

"Well, I think it looks wonderful, un," Deidara said, put-off by the non-reaction to his hard work. He started to take the mirror away.

"No, wait!" Temari gasped. She was curious as to what anyone could accomplish with her hair. Anyway, it kept her mind off of other things. "I wasn't paying attention. I'll look."

The mirror returned, and Temari went about keeping her promise by looking at her hair.

She had spent her life at war with her hair, and she knew it well. It was a tough opponent; coarse, stiff, quick to snarl, and unwilling to submit to even the most gentle techniques. Her own impatient nature made the battle all the more frustrating. She could never spend more than an hour on it without wanting to shave her head and start over. For most of her life she and her hair had kept each other at an impasse. She managed to run a brush through it once in a while, just enough to keep it washable, and to keep it separated into four different tangles, but other than that basic maintenance, she left it alone to do as it pleased.

Deidara, on the other hand, had forced her hair into total, unconditional surrender. She could see it in the mirror, hanging around her sunburnt face as though it was normal human hair, not the crusty, seasoned enemy army she knew it to be. There it was, though, perfectly flat and straight, wildly uneven, since she trimmed it herself by loping it off when it got too long, and moist with conditioner, but nonetheless, behaving.

"How did you do that?" she asked, in awe.

"Well, it wasn't easy, un."

Temari's hand jerked a little. She was trying to raise it, but she was still too weak, and it still hurt too much.

"Do you want to touch it?" Deidara asked. "I'd imagine that it's been a long time since you've been able to run your fingers through that mess, un."

Temari shook her head slightly; her hair swished across her cheeks gently. "It is pretty. Thank you."

"My pleasure, un. So, who's your favorite uncle now?"

"No contest, Uncle Dei," Temari sighed. "The only time Yashamaru ever paid attention to my hair was when I tried to style it when I was little and got a comb stuck in it. He cut it loose." Her cheeks burned a little at the memory. It was a silly thing, but she remembered his irritated scolding even now, and wearing a hat for months as she waited for her bald spot to go away.

"Tsk," Deidara clucked his tongue. "Child abuse, un. Sasori-danna never told me that it got _that_ bad."

Temari sighed blearily as her new uncle replaced Itachi's mirror, muttering under his breath about the outrage of unnecessary hair-cutting.

"Are you tired, Mystery Girl?" he asked, hearing her. "You should get some more rest, un. You'll recover quicker."

Temari half-nodded and allowed him to re-position her so she was lying down once more. She doubted they would hurt her, now that she knew what they wanted. And she wasn't worried about Gaara's safety; it sounded as though they expected Shukaku to come honing in on her, very stupid of them. He had no way of finding her here.

A (painful) shudder shook her at the thought of Shukaku. How long had Gaara been fighting to protect her from that thing? Why hadn't he told her? How many others had known... and not told her? Had lied to her and her brothers, let Gaara suffer on his own, let her make things worse? And Baki, why hadn't he at least said something earlier? Why was this a secret? Why didn't she have a right to know? Who was the traitor who had betrayed her village and told these strange men everything? Who where they, and what did they want with the jinchuriki?

Temari had always thought that she knew more about Gaara than anybody, that she knew more about the inner workings of Suna than most, that she was in on her village's secrets. But she hadn't known this, hadn't even suspected it. What else didn't she know? What else did she think was true?

She felt dizzy, tired, confused, and sick unto death with worry. She knew that she could not recover without rest, but she wished Deidara would come back and distract her some more. He could brush the hair out of her eyes, too.

With a great deal of pain, she pulled her arm up to her face, bent her fingers over her cheek, and brushed the hair to the side, letting the digits fall on top of the pile these new, tame locks had gathered into next to her. But the hair felt... well, familiar. It was the same old wiry, thick strands it had always been, with the same old split ends, the same old textures. It was now untangled and covered with conditioner, but it was still her hair, after all. It was reassuring, in a way, touching her hair. No matter what happened, what they did to her, what horrible secrets she discovered, how she seemed to change, she would still be her, and her hair would be with her. Coarse, stubborn, and tangled.


	11. In the Dark

Culture Shock

Chapter 11: In the Dark

A/N: It's probably worth noting that movies are not anachronistic; the first Naruto movie involves filming a movie, and I think that they mention Jiraiya working on an Itcha Itcha Film. So, no, I watched myself on that one.

But, seriously, what do Itachi and Kisame do for fun?

* * *

Kisame was snoring in front of the TV screen as the credits rolled on the last movie Itachi thought he could watch without screaming.

"Kisame, wake up."

"Hmmph?"

"I'm going to bed. Good night."

Kisame smiled at him through half-closed eyes. "Good night, then, 'Tachi."

Saying goodnight to Kisame was one of the high points of Itachi's daily life. There was something homey about it, the adult equivalent of being tucked into bed by your big brother. He thought that Kisame had maybe had a large family once, but the Mist nin never talked about them, and Itachi knew better than to ask.

"Hey, could you take Mystery Girl some soup or something?" Kisame asked. "I don't think anyone's remembered to feed her since this morning, and we don't want her ending up like Tobi's goldfish." He must have seen Itachi freeze. "She won't bite, you know. Think about her life so far. You're probably the nicest guy she's ever met. And that's just plain pathetic," he added as an afterthought.

* * *

"You again," Temari said when she heard the door open. "This is your room, right?"

"Yes," Itachi said quietly. He had already decided, she needed him now, and he wasn't going to let his cowardice stop him this time. Whatever his fears about facing her, he would have to overcome them. He held up the bowl in his hands and tried to keep his mind on the present. "I- I am supposed to feed you," he explained.

"Good," Temari said. "I was wondering if anyone would. And I want to talk to you..." She looked up at the young man standing above her. Except for the eyes, she decided there was nothing remarkable about him, especially compared to his companions, but in general, as well. Oh, he may have been handsomer than some, but he was not extraordinarily so, not by her standards. He was thin and pale, probably not much taller than Temari herself, certainly shorter than Kankuro. His mouth seemed set into one serious expression, worry wrinkles etched his face. His eyes had the faraway, detached look of a perpetual dreamer. Really, he looked no different from any other young man on the street. Temari wondered why he was the one her mind had latched onto; perhaps just because he was so normal. Or was it his name? "Itachi..." No, nothing remarkable about it.

Itachi almost dropped the bowl. _She had said his name._ She knew his name. He wanted to beg her to say it again, so he could hear it, hear how perfect those few syllables sounded, coming from her. It suddenly wasn't just some word that referred to him; not when she said it.

Temari was not so concerned with the romance of the moment. Her mind was occupied with the strictly practical; it usually was. She could smell the food he was holding; it appeared to be rice. And rice was not famous for being an aromatic food, which said something about how hungry she was. Its presence was driving her nuts. She took a deep breath and swallowed a lump in her throat that she suspected was pride. "I know this is awkward, but I can't move, so you're going to have to spoon-feed me." She looked pointedly at the wall, avoiding eye-contact, letting him know that she was as embarrassed about the situation as he no-doubt was, and the best thing was to get it over with quickly. "I know, I don't like it, either, and I'm sorry this has to be such a hassle for-,"

A firm clunk interrupted her as Itachi set his bowl down on the desk, next to the old tuna sandwich, and propped her up against the headrest of the bed, a good deal more gently than Deidara had.

"It is not a problem," he said, reaching for the bowl once more and pushing some rice onto the spoon.

His hands were shaking. Oh, she might not have noticed. The movement was very slight, but he knew his body perfectly, and he was always aware of any unauthorized activity. She was just so _strong_. To remain calm in the face of her own helplessness, to not show any fear or weakness, to treat him as an equal rather than a captor. Could she be any more amazing? Could he be any more lucky to be able to stand in the same room with her and hear her talk (and say his name)?

Temari tried not to betray her impatience as he spooned the food into her mouth, taking his sweet time, of course. She may have to depend on him for sustenance, but she would not (repeat, not) give him the satisfaction of begging.

"You..." Itachi struggled (successfully, of course) to keep his face impassive. "Wanted to talk?"

Temari nodded and tried to keep her eyes away from the spoon hovering so close by. "About last night..." But she couldn't remember what she wanted to say, or even why she had wanted to talk about it with him.

She was afraid, also, that he would make her keep talking, but the spoon pushed against her lips like a good eating utensil.

"I meant what I said," Itachi said stiffly. "I will protect you."

"I can protect myself," she said, more as a gut reaction than anything else.

"Yes, but," How to explain to her? Could she understand how badly he needed to do _something_ for her, and this was all he had to offer? "It will not hurt to have me as an ally."

"That depends on the cost," she said. "I won't be in your debt."

"There will be no debt," Itachi hastened to explain. The very notion was insulting, that he would insist on some repayment, that he would take advantage of her weakened position to bind her to him. "I will take it upon myself to protect you; you did not ask it of me, you will owe me nothing in exchange."

"Then why would you do it?" Temari asked.

Itachi took a deep breath. He wasn't sure he could explain it to her; just because he was in love did not mean that she was or ever would be. But that did not mean that he should lie to her, either. "I think, Mystery Girl, that we have many similarities, and I would enjoy the opportunity to meet somebody similar to myself."

Temari sized up this offer in her head. There was something peculiar about this man. She wouldn't put it past him to look out for someone because of their "similarities." The idea that they _were_ similar was certainly interesting, if a little crazy. Temari grimaced as she swallowed another spoonful of rice. He was right, though; it would not hurt to have someone looking out for her when she was this weak.

"All right," she said. "If you want to help me out, I won't stop you."

Itachi wanted to smile and thank her and let her know how happy this made him, but the part of his brain that he normally dedicated to social functions told him not to blow it now. Being quiet and emotionless had worked pretty well so far in his life, so he kept feeding her without further comment.

"That's the last of it," he reported a few minutes later. "Are you still hungry? I think there was some leftover pizza in the fridge."

"No... this is fine for now," she said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He put the bowl back on the desk, next to the tuna sandwich (he _really_ needed to take that thing to the kitchen), and then realized that he had nowhere to go. "This is my bed," he said after a moment.

"Oh..." He thought she might have blushed, but it was hard to tell under the sunburn. "Well, I guess you'll be wanting to sleep here..."

"If that's all right with you."

She shrugged a little. "It's your bed."

"Right." This was acceptable. It would be just like last night; he would put on some pajamas, turn off the light, and try to go to sleep. That was all. No big deal.

Temari tried to wiggle herself into a more comfortable position for sleeping. Once she was feeling better, she would never take the ability to move for granted again. In the meantime, she needed sleep. She also was not eager to watch Itachi strip, and that seemed to be where he was headed. If her memories were correct (and so far they seemed to be), she had seen more than enough the night before.

Itachi glanced between the boxers in his hands and the young woman on his bed. She didn't seem to be watching, but then, if she happened to open her eyes... no need to traumatize her any more than he already had. Itachi slipped into the hall to change.

* * *

He was trying to pull his pants on when Kisame walked by with a toothbrush in his hand. Itachi stopped cold when he saw him, one leg up in the air, half-way into a pant leg. Kisame paused for a moment to consider this pose.

"We don't want to see it any more than she does, you know," he said, continuing his walk down the hall.

* * *

The light behind Temari's eyelids went black, and a moment later she felt Itachi's weight on the mattress next to her.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Could you move one of these pillows?" she asked. "My neck's starting to cramp a little."

The pillows adjusted themselves, and for a moment, everything was completely silent.

Itachi lay on his back, close to the edge of the bed, and tried to take up as little room as possible. His bed was just large enough for the two of them, but he wanted her to be as comfortable as possible, and that meant not getting in her way while she slept.

Temari tried to sleep, but, in the dark, when she couldn't even hear Itachi breathing next to her, her thoughts began to wander back to her home, to Gaara and Kankuro, to everything she had learned that day. She had never been afraid of the dark; she knew firsthand that evil didn't care if the sun was out or not. But, combined with her thoughts tonight, it seemed more oppressive than usual; or maybe it was just how vulnerable she felt, anyway.

"Itachi?" she asked after a moment.

"Yes?" His voice was mellow and soft, and it reminded her of the familiar hiss of a cooking fire.

"Do you mind..." She would never ask this, not of an enemy, not of _anyone_, but she sensed that the rules changed now that it was dark, just as they had changed the night before. Something had happened that made this acceptable. "Do you mind... holding me... like you did last night?"

"Of course not," the cooking-fire voice whispered back, and an arm wrapped around her, just like the night before. It was comforting, and, most importantly, it stopped her from thinking. For a moment, there was no Kankuro, no Gaara, no Shukaku, no Deidara or Kisame or Sasori, not even a Temari or an Itachi. Just that arm and that voice, two warm bodies together in the dark. She could hear his breathing now that he was closer, but he didn't feel human necessarily, just alive and reassuring.

"Deidara combed out my hair," she said absently, the kind of babble she would use to talk to a pet. (Not that she knew from any personal experience; animals were afraid of Gaara, so they had never kept any growing up.) "I think the effort was a little wasted when the rest of me looks like a boiled lobster with a skin condition, but it's nice to be able to run my fingers through it. Or," she laughed a little, "if I could move my arms, it would be."

Fingers wove through her hair as soon as she said it. "It is very soft now," Itachi agreed. For some reason, his voice didn't break the spell, and she kept talking.

"Yes... I'm not used to it... I never comb it out, myself. I'm not sure that I like it this way. I might tangle it up again so that it sticks out more. What do you think?"

"Whatever you think looks best will suit you best," Itachi said diplomatically, keeping his fingers wrapped in her hair and trying not to dwell on how insanely, preposterously lucky he was, for fear of jinxing himself.

"Maybe I can keep it combed and still put it up..." she mused lazily. Her thoughts were beginning to drift, and it even seemed possible that she would fall asleep peacefully. "I should ask Deidara... he seems to know about this stuff."

"Hn."

"... It sounds silly, but I've always sort-of wanted someone to play with my hair."

Itachi immediately twirled some of her hair around his finger.

"I've never been very girly... My mother died when I was very young, and I don't have any aunts or anything like that, so I kind of had to be a tomboy. And I'm glad that I was raised like that... I don't want to be one of those sugary little girls who wear pink and play with baby dolls and giggle over boys. I mean, _now_ I'm glad, but... when I was little, it was different. The other girls would get dressed up for festivals and stuff, and their mothers would put up their hair and get them all dolled up, and they'd look so pretty... I wanted to be like them so badly... Nobody ever put much effort into how I looked. I guess it's a pathetic thing to be jealous over, but I was a pathetic little kid."

Itachi's mind flashed to the picture of her as a child, the image that he had cherished for so long. She had not been pathetic, not at all. Blasphemy, that's what that was, to call a child with such strong eyes pathetic. "No," he managed, pulling some of her hair closer to his nose so he could smell it. (It smelled like Deidara, which was disappointing.) "That's not pathetic at all."

"You're just trying to make me feel better," she mumbled. "What's with you guys and being nice? It's freaking me out."

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to be more cruel?"

There was a short pause, then she shifted a little bit, getting about half of a centimeter closer to him. "No... not you. I'll just have to get over it. Thank you for letting me babble to you," her voice was getting foggy now. "It's been... a long time... since I've thought about this stuff."

She gave one last tiny sigh, and then her breathing grew deeper and more rhythmical; she was asleep.

"Thank you for talking to me," Itachi whispered, a little too late. His mind was struggling to cope with how highly honored he was to hear this little confession. He knew a thing or two about the Shinobi mentality and he knew how difficult it was to confide something so private in another person. _She_ was accepting his help, _she_ was telling him about her childhood insecurities, _she_ was letting him play with her hair, _she_ was saying his name. This miraculous vision of a human being was sleeping more-or-less in his arms.

Itachi's brain, which had not had a task more challenging than processing good-natured teasing from Kisame, went into sensory overload and shut down everything except for a single phrase, which repeated until Itachi drifted to sleep and gave his poor overtaxed mind a rest.

_She is perfect and she is right here and I am holding her. She is perfect and I am holding her. She is perfect and I am holding her, perfect and I am holding her..._

* * *

A/N: This story is very experimental for me (I've never written anything serious and longer than a chapter before), so any comments or suggestions are welcome. Comedy is fairly easy for me, but anything serious and I feel like I screw it up royal, and I'd like to improve.


End file.
